and bit by bit, little coin by little coin, it grew, till one day he had enough. Then he left his clay, and with care and loving pains, his lathe turning to the beat of his heart, he fashioned a little cup of gold.

   "It is small," he said, "but it will hold wine for a single draught." And he set it in the sun among his pots, where it could be seen of the passers-by.

   Presently rode by the Prince and his court, and saw the pots, and on one the sun shining.

   "Look!" said one of the courtiers, "if the potter have not gilded one of his clay pipkins!"

   "What can you tell me of your neighbour?" asked the Angel-who-looks-into-things.

   "Oh, an excellent person!" said the Busy Man. "Full of wisdom and virtue; merry, too, withal; in short, a delightful companion."

   "You have been much together, then?" said the Angel-who-looks-into-things.

   "Well, scarcely that," replied the Busy Man; "in fact, I have been so excessively busy that I have seen nothing of him for a long time. But now I have every intention of doing so; indeed, I think I will ask him to dine with me to-night."

   "You can hardly do that!" said the Angel.

   "Why not?"

   "Because he died this morning."

   Once an Angel found a child crying bitterly, and stopped to comfort him.

   "What is the matter, dear?" asked the Angel.

   "Oh, I have hurt myself dreadfully!" said the child. "Dreadfully! see!" and he showed his wound.

   "Yes, that must have hurt very much, I know," said the Angel; "but cheer up! I knew another child who was wounded in the same place, and he got over it in good time."

   "Ah! but it was not so bad a wound as mine!" said the child.

   "Yes, it was," said the Angel; "every bit as bad."

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