ried. "We will sell Milky-White and be richer than ever.
It's an ill wind that blows no one good. So, as it is market-day, I'll
just take her there and we shall see what we shall see."

"But--" began his mother.

"But doesn't butter parsnips," laughed Jack. "Trust me to make a good
bargain."

So, as it was washing-day, and her sick husband was more ailing than
usual, his mother let Jack set off to sell the cow.

"Not less than ten pounds," she bawled after him as he turned the
corner.

Ten pounds, indeed! Jack had made up his mind to twenty! Twenty solid
golden sovereigns!

He was just settling what he should buy his mother as a fairing out of
the money, when he saw a queer little old man on the road who called
out, "Good-morning, Jack!"

"Good-morning," replied Jack, with a polite bow, wondering how the queer
little old man happened to know his name; though, to be sure, Jacks were
as plentiful as blackberries.

"And where may you be going?" asked the queer little old man. Jack
wondered again--he was always wondering, you know--what the queer little
old man had to do with it; but, being always polite, he replied:

"I am going to market to sell Milky-White--and I mean to make a good
bargain."

"So you will! So you will!" chuckled the queer little old man. "You
look the sort of chap for it. I bet you know how many beans make five?"

"Two in each hand and one in my mouth," answered Jack readily. He really
was sharp as a needle.

"Just so, just so!" chuckled the queer little old man; and as he spoke
he drew out of his pocket five beans. "Well, here they are, so give us
Milky-White."

Jack was so flabbergasted that he stood with his mouth open as if he
expected the fifth bean to fly into it.

"What!" he said at last. "My Milky-White for five common beans! Not if I
know it!"

"But they aren't common beans," put in the queer little old man, and
there was a queer little smile on his queer little face. "If you plant
these beans over-night, by morning they will have grown up right into
the very sky."

Jack was too flabbergasted this time even to open his mouth; his eyes
opened instead.

[Illustration: As he spoke he drew out of his pocket five beans]

"Did you say right into the very sky?" he asked at last; for, see you,
Jack had wondered more about the sky than about anything else.

"_RIGHT UP INTO THE VERY SKY_" repeated the queer old man, with a nod
between each word. "It's a good bargain, Jack; and,