[Illustration] [Illustration] Four O’clock· Bare-necked _Gretchen_ combs her hair [Sidenote: ☉K.P.☋ _Warm and Dusty._] At the _Looking-Glass_. This is _Grease_, and these are _Beads_ She takes to early _Mass_. Her _Water-Pitcher_, blue and white, Has got a broken _Nose_, And both the _Stockings_ that she wears Are ravelled at the _Toes_. [Illustration: Which is Best?] XVI. There was a rich man who lived on a hill, and a poor man who lived down in the valley, and they were brothers, the one was older and the other younger. The one lived in a grand house and the other in a little, rickety, tumble-down hut, and the one was covetous and greedy and the other was kind and merciful. All the same, it was a merry life that the poor brother led of it, for each morning when he took a drink he said, “Thank Heaven for clear water;” and when the day was bright he said, “Thank Heaven for the warm sun that shines on us all;” and when it was wet it was, “Thank Heaven for the gentle rain that makes the green grass grow.” One day the poor brother was riding in the forest, and there he met the rich brother, and they jogged along the way together. The one rode upon a poor, old, spavined, white horse, and the other rode upon a fine, prancing steed. By and by they met an old woman, and it was all that she could do to hobble along the way she was going. “Dear, good, kind gentlemen,” said she, “do help a poor old body with a penny or two, for it is nothing I have in the world, and life sits heavy on old shoulders.” The rich brother was for passing along as though he heard never a word of what she said, but the poor brother had a soft heart, and reined in his horse. “It is only three farthings that I have in the world,” said he; “but such as they are you are welcome to them,” and he emptied his purse into her hand. “You shall not have the worst of the bargain,” said the old woman; “here is something that is worth the having,” and she gave him a little black stone about as big as a bean. Then off she went with what he had given her. “See, now,” said the rich brother, “that is why you are so poor as hardly to be able to make both ends meet in the world.” “That may be so, or may not be so,” said the poor brother; “all the same, mercy is better than greed.” How the elder did laugh at this, to be sure! “Why, look,” says he, “here I am riding upon a grand horse with my pockets full of gold and silver money, and there you are astride of a beast that can hardly hobble along the road, and with never a copper bit in your pocket to jingle against another.” Yes; that was all true enough; nevertheless, the younger brother stuck to it that mercy was better than greed, until, at last, the other flew into a mighty huff. “Very well,” says he, “I will wager my horse against yours that I am right, and we will leave it to the first body we meet to settle the point.”