"If you find any more," answered Audrey, pushing Pincher away from the dish of cold meat, "you can have them. I'd rather have our dishes in sets, I think." Edwitha was poking about in the bank where she had found the bowl, late that afternoon, when Wilfrid came up the bank. There seemed to be no more dishes in sight. "What have you found?" asked Wilfrid. He held it up in the sunlight, and drew a quick breath of delight. "How beautiful it is!" he exclaimed in a low voice. Edwitha was silent. She was filled with a great happiness because she had the bowl. "I wonder how it came to be here," mused Wilfrid, and fell to digging and prodding the earth. "There isn't another in the hole," said Edwitha. "I've been here a long time." "This is the only bit I ever saw that was found just here. But see here, Edwitha, this is clay. It is exactly like the clay they use at the pottery down by the ford, but finer--I think. I tell you--I believe there was a pottery here once." He and Edwitha took the bowl and a few lumps of the clay, next morning, to the Master Potter beyond the village. Wilfrid had served his apprenticeship at this pottery and was now a journeyman. The clay proved to be finer and more workable than that near the pottery, and the deposit was close to the high road, so that donkeys and pack-horses could come up easily to be loaded with their earthen pots. It was even possible, so the Master Potter said, that it would make a better grade of ware than they had been able to make hitherto. Finally, and most important from the point of view of Wilfrid and Edwitha, it was on Wilfrid's own farm, he had his old mother to support, and this discovery might make it possible for him to have his own pottery and be a Master Potter. Edwitha often wished that the bowl could speak, and tell her how it was made, and who drew the little dancing figures. In course of time Wilfrid tried some experiments with pottery, ornamenting it with figures in white clay on the colored ground, and searching continually for new and better methods of glazing, baking, and modeling his wares. At last, when the years of his apprenticeship had all been served, and he knew everything that was taught in the old Sussex pottery by the ford, he came one spring twilight to the farmhouse and found Edwitha in the garden. "It is no use," he said, half-laughing. "I shall never be content to settle down here until I have seen what they are doing in other lands. If there is anywhere a man who can make things like that bowl of yours, I must learn what he can teach me. It may be that the secret has been lost--if it has, I will come back and work here again. A man was never meant to do less than his best, Edwitha." "I know," said Edwitha. "Those figures make me feel so too. They always did. I don't want to live anywhere but here--and now Audrey has gone away, uncle and aunt could never do without me--but I wish we could make beautiful things in England."