wheel, and
listening with two ears and one heart to its song and the old woman's
tale both at once.

[Illustration: "WILLIE LIKED MRS WILSON'S STORIES BETTER THAN HER SUGAR
CANDY."]

One sultry summer afternoon, his mother not being very well and having
gone to lie down, his father being out, as he so often was, upon
Scramble the old horse, and Tibby, their only servant, being busy with
the ironing, Willie ran off to Widow Wilson's, and was soon curled up
in the chair, like a little Hindoo idol that had grown weary of sitting
upright, and had tumbled itself into a corner.

Now, before he came, the old woman had been thinking about him, and
wishing very much that he would come; turning over also in her mind, as
she spun, all her stock of stories, in the hope of finding in some nook
or other one she had not yet told him; for although he had not yet begun
to grow tired even of those he knew best, it was a special treat to have
a new one; for by this time Mrs Wilson's store was all but exhausted,
and a new one turned up very rarely. This time, however, she was
successful, and did call to mind one that she had not thought of before.
It had not only grown very dusty, but was full of little holes, which
she at once set about darning up with the needle and thread of her
imagination, so that, by the time Willie arrived, she had a treat, as
she thought, quite ready for him.

I am not going to tell you the story, which was about a poor boy who
received from a fairy to whom he had shown some kindness the gift of a
marvelous wand, in the shape of a common blackthorn walking-stick, which
nobody could suspect of possessing such wonderful virtue. By means of
it, he was able to do anything he wished, without the least trouble; and
so, upon a trial of skill, appointed by a certain king, in order to find
out which of the craftsmen of his realm was fittest to aid him in ruling
it, he found it easy to surpass every one of them, each in his own
trade. He produced a richer damask than any of the silk-weavers; a finer
linen than any of the linen-weavers; a more complicated as well as
ornate cabinet, with more drawers and quaint hiding-places, than any of
the cabinet-makers; a sword-blade more cunningly damasked, and a hilt
more gorgeously jewelled, than any of the sword-makers; a ring set with
stones more precious, more brilliant in colour, and more beautifully
combined, than any of the jewellers: in short, as I say, without knowing
a