sell all kinds of pretty toys and knick-knacks. "And by the way," he
added, as the smiling shopman looked over his books for the entry, "I
think my little boy here can show you a much handsomer specimen of
French workmanship than that work-box which you enticed Mrs. Caxton into
raffling for, last winter. Show your domino-box, my dear."

I produced my treasure, and the shopman was liberal in his
commendations. "It is always well, my boy, to know what a thing is
worth, in case one wishes to part with it. If my young gentleman gets
tired of his plaything, what will you give him for it?"

"Why, sir," said the shopman, "I fear we could not afford to give more
than eighteen shillings for it, unless the young gentleman took some of
these pretty things in exchange."

"Eighteen shillings!" said my father; "you would give that sum! Well,
my boy, whenever you do grow tired of your box, you have my leave to
sell it."

My father paid his bill and went out. I lingered behind a few moments,
and joined him at the end of the street.

"Papa, papa," I cried, clapping my hands, "we can buy the geranium; we
can buy the flower-pot." And I pulled a handful of silver from my
pockets.

"Did I not say right?" said my father, passing his handkerchief over his
eyes. "You have found the two fairies!"

Oh! how proud, how overjoyed I was when, after placing vase and flower