That very same day he asked Mellidora to marry him, and as she loved him as much as he did her they got married very soon and lived happily ever after. SEVEN The Clock There was once a little clock which had gone steadily for years and years. It was a good, conscientious little thing, pretty too, but very modest, and it had always kept splendid time. Then it stopped suddenly one day exactly at eleven. Its works were worn out, and the clock-maker to whom it was sent for repairs returned it with the message that it was not possible to make it go again. The people to whom it belonged decided to leave it on the mantelshelf where it had always stood. “It’s such a nice little thing,” they said, “and some day we can have new works put into it.” So there it stood without making a movement or uttering the faintest tick. But it was very unhappy. It felt that it was of no real use in the world. The other things in the room weren’t very nice about it. They used to whisper to one another, and the little clock caught an unkind word now and then that made it unhappier than ever. “I don’t know why they keep it there. What on earth’s the good of it if it doesn’t go?” said the big grandfather clock. “It never was much use anyway. No chime, and a very poor tick. Of course it’s got no constitution to speak of.” And his brazen face grew even shinier than it had been before, and he gave a self-satisfied little cough and then sang out his quarters as loudly as ever he could. The cuckoo clock, which lived in the hall, and used to join in the talk when the door was open, actually went so far as to make up a little rhyme about it. “Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo,” it sang. “What’s the use of you? What’s the use of you? Cuckoo, cuckoo.” The chairs, which were Chippendale, and tremendously proud of the fact, were quite as rude. “There’s no doubt about it,” they said, “quality is what tells. You can’t expect a thing to last unless it is really well made, inside and out. Perfect workmanship will wear practically for ever.” And they held up their backs as straight as could be and curved their shapely arms and legs into the most elegant lines imaginable. The little Chelsea flower-seller and flute-player, who stood on each side of the clock on the mantelshelf, were much kinder, and did their best to console it. They had always been on friendly terms with it, and they used to peep round it and smile and wave to one another. [Illustration] “The Fairy Queen is probably coming to see us soon,” said the flower-seller. “Perhaps she may be able to help you.” The little clock felt happier; it would be wonderful to be introduced to the Fairy Queen, who had often been to see the Chelsea figures but had so far never taken notice of any of the other things.