It was a beautiful drive. As they came home they met a woman driving a weak-looking little cow. It went by on one side of the engine and the woman went by on the other. When they were restored to each other the cow was nearly the size of a cart-horse, and the woman did not recognise it. She ran back along the road after her cow, which must, she said, have taken fright at the beastly motor. She scolded violently as she went. So the boys had to make the cow small again, when she wasn't looking. 'This is all very well,' said Gustus, 'but we've got our fortune to make, I don't think. We've got to get hold of a tanner--or a bob would be better.' But this was not possible, because that broken window wasn't paid for, and Gustus never had any money. 'We ought to be the benefactors of the human race,' said Edward; 'make all the good things more and all the bad things less.' And _that_ was all very well--but the cow hadn't been a great success, as Gustus reminded him. 'I see I shall have to do some of my thinking,' he added. They stopped in a quiet road close by Dymchurch; the engine was made small again, and Edward went home with it under his arm. It was the next day that they found the shilling on the road. They could hardly believe their good luck. They went out on to the shore with it, put it on Edward's hand while Gustus looked at it with the glass, and the shilling began to grow. 'It's as big as a saucer,' said Edward, 'and it's heavy. I'll rest it on these stones. It's as big as a plate; it's as big as a tea-tray; it's as big as a cart-wheel.' And it was. 'Now,' said Gustus, 'we'll go and borrow a cart to take it away. Come on.' But Edward could not come on. His hand was in the hollow between the two stones, and above lay tons of silver. He could not move, and the stones couldn't move. There was nothing for it but to look at the great round lump of silver through the wrong end of the spy-glass till it got small enough for Edward to lift it. And then, unfortunately, Gustus looked a little too long, and the shilling, having gone back to its own size, went a little further--and it went to sixpenny size, and then went out altogether. So nobody got anything by that. And now came the time when, as was to be expected, Edward dropped the telescope in his aunt's presence. She said, 'What's that?' picked it up with quite unfair quickness, and looked through it, and through the open window at a fishing-boat, which instantly swelled to the size of a man-of-war. 'My goodness! what a strong glass!' said the aunt. 'Isn't it?' said Edward, gently taking it from her. He looked at the ship through the glass's other end till she got to her proper size again and then smaller. He just stopped in time to prevent its disappearing altogether. 'I'll take care of it for you,' said the aunt. And for the first time in their lives Edward said 'No' to his aunt. It was a terrible moment.