p a little red with
gum he carefully painted the white letter scarlet, and held it up.

"There!" cried the boy triumphantly; "it looks now almost like the back
patch, and you've spoiled it all."

"Umph!" grunted the monk, re-opening the window and laying his work in
the sun to dry. "Wait a bit."

"Yes, I'll wait," said the boy, watching the shiny wet paint turn more
and more dull; "but I don't like it."

Swythe washed his brush carefully again, and as soon as the paint was
dry went carefully over the letter part with gum, so delicately that the
red colour was not disturbed nor the background smeared.

"Yes," said the boy, still watching; "that looks a little better,
because it looks shiny, but it was better white. Do paint it yellow
now."

"I told you I'm going to make it yellow," said Swythe, laying his work
well out in the sunshine to get thoroughly dry.

Then, taking it from the window-sill and shutting out the breeze again,
Swythe placed his work ready and took out, from a snug corner, a tiny
book made by sewing together about half-a-dozen leaves of parchment, and
upon opening this very carefully Alfred saw within a piece of brilliant
shining gold.

"Oh, how beautiful!" cried Alfred, making a dart at it with his hand.
But, as if he expected this, Swythe put out his own hand and caught his
pupil's just in time, creating such a breeze, though, that the very thin
gold leaf rose up at the corner and fell over, doubling nearly in half.

"There, you see how fine it is!" cried Swythe.

"I'm very sorry--I did not know," said the boy sadly; and then he looked
on in wonder, for the monk bent down, gave a gentle puff with his
breath, and the gold was blown up, to fall back into its place.

"Why, I thought it would be quite hard and heavy," said Alfred.

"And it's twenty times as thin as the parchment!" said Swythe. "Now
then, suppose we make the letter of gold."

Alfred did not speak, but watched with breathless interest while the
monk took his knife and carefully cut a long strip off one edge of the
gold leaf, and then, dividing it in four, took it up bit by bit on the
blade, and laid the pieces along the letter, cutting off edges and
scraps that were not wanted, and covering up bare places so carefully
and with such great pains that at last there was not a trace left of the
gummed letter, a rough, rugged gold one being left in its place.

"There!" cried Swythe, when he had covered the last speck, and all w