"The money will not last him two days," said the man, as he watched Gilligren go down the turnpike road, "and when it is gone he will starve to death." "Or he may fall in with people who will treat him worse than we did," rejoined the woman, "and then he'll wish he had never left us." But Gilligren, nothing dismayed by thoughts of the future, trudged bravely along the London road. The world was before him, and the bright sunshine glorified the dusty road and lightened the tips of the dark green hedges that bordered his path. At the end of his pilgrimage was the great city, and he never doubted he would find therein proper work and proper pay, and much better treatment than he was accustomed to receive. So, on he went, whistling merrily to while away the time, watching the sparrows skim over the fields, and enjoying to the full the unusual sights that met his eyes. At noon he overtook a carter, who divided with the boy his luncheon of bread and cheese, and for supper a farmer's wife gave him a bowl of milk. When it grew dark he crawled under a hedge and slept soundly until dawn. The next day he kept steadily upon his way, and toward evening met a farmer with a wagon loaded with sacks of grain. "Where are you going, my lad?" asked the man. "To London," replied Gilligren, "to see the King crowned." "Have you any money?" enquired the farmer. "Oh yes," answered Gilligren, "I have a sixpence." "If you will give me the sixpence," said the man, "I will give you a sack of rye for it." "What could I do with a sack of rye?" asked Gilligren, wonderingly. "Take it to the mill, and get it ground into flour. With the flour you could have bread baked, and that you can sell." "That is a good idea," replied Gilligren, "so here is my sixpence, and now give me the sack of rye." The farmer put the sixpence carefully into his pocket, and then reached under the seat of the wagon and drew out a sack, which he cast on the ground at the boy's feet. "There is your sack of rye," he said, with a laugh. "But the sack is empty!" remonstrated Gilligren. "Oh, no; there is some rye in it." "But only a handful!" said Gilligren, when he had opened the mouth of the sack and gazed within it. "It is a sack of rye, nevertheless," replied the wicked farmer, "and I did not say how much rye there would be in the sack I would give you. Let this be a lesson to you never again to buy grain without looking into the sack!" and with that he whipped up his horses and left Gilligren standing in the road with the sack at his feet and nearly ready to cry at his loss. "My sixpence is gone," he said to himself, "and I have received nothing in exchange but a handful of rye! How can I make my fortune with that?"