"Are you ready to go and see her, Jim?" she asked, gently. "And will
you be contented now?"
"Yes, yes!" was his eager reply.
Now, the old king had been mending shoes all day, and was at this
moment resting in the cottage porch, when, suddenly, he was whisked
away on a cloud and landed in his palace again. His crown was popped
on his head, and the scepter thrust in his hand, while his old
chamberlain tenderly tucked him up in bed.
At the same instant, another cloud brought back Nimble Jim to his
bench and his faithful mother, who at once made him some oat-meal
porridge without a murmur or word of reproach.
"There!" said the elfin queen to herself. "That boy is cured of his
silly notions."
"Mother, I think I don't care much for melons. I wont plant any more,"
said Jim next morning.
"I don't like 'em myself, lad," said the mother. "I'd a deal rather
you'd stick to the bench, like your auld father."
"I will, mother dear," answered Nimble Jim. And he is mending shoes
there to this day, as happy as happy can be.
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