The next day the courteous stranger returned for the doublet. I delivered it with my left hand into his own left hand, the button being attached firmly in place. He thanked me, and departed; but on the morning after, he reappeared, to my surprise, and as he came in he smiled at me and shook his head at me waggishly. “Fie! master Solario!” said he. “How could you have treated me so? And a mere button, too! Really, my good Solario!” He produced the doublet, and showed me that it lacked a button in the same place as before. He held up in one hand the ivory button and in the other a length of thread. I was perplexed. The thread had not been cut, of that I was sure. It was the identical thread, and of the identical length. “You will not blame my master,” said the stranger, “if he finds himself a little aggrieved. He had scarcely put on the doublet yesterday when the button came off in his hand. I was commanded to leave it with you once more, together with this trifling honorarium.” So saying, he dropped a little purse on my table as before, and after putting the garment and its button into my left hand with his own left hand, bowed himself out. I turned up the purse in haste, and poured out a number of gold coins, as before, but this time twice as many. I put away the gold into my coffer, and sewed on the button once more, with special care. I whipped the thread around itself under the button, sewed it through the goods, doubled it back through the button, wound it and knotted it and doubled it back, and altogether made such a job of it (however painful to me as an artist) as was perfect for security. _“I don’t see,” interrupted the King, “what all this business about a button has got to do with--”_ _“If your majesty will pardon me,” said the old tailor, “I have not yet reached the end of my story.”_ _“I’m well aware of it,” said the King. “But still I don’t see--”_ _“My dear!” said the Queen, sweetly, and the old man went on with his story._ Next morning the stranger returned for the doublet. I delivered it into his left hand with my left, and he turned to go. At the door he looked back at me smiling, and was about to bow himself out when he paused to try the button with his fingers. A slight frown came over his face; he pulled the button gently, and behold, there before my eyes,--I assure you I saw it with these very eyes,--the button came off into his hand! He sighed, looked at me gravely, and held out the button in one hand and the doublet in the other. “Alas, good master Solario!” said he. “You have not treated me very well. The hopes I entertained for your profit are at an end. It remains only for me to apologize for my intrusion, and for you to return to me the money which I left with you.”