ncho who remembered best about the leprechaun--how they found
him sitting cross-legged under the blackthorn-bush with a leather apron
spread over his knees, and how he had called out--just as Bridget had
said he would:

"Hello, Pancho and Susan and Sandy and all!"

"Have you any shoes got?" Pancho shouted.

The faery cobbler nodded and pointed with his awl to the branches above
his head; there hung nine pairs of little green shoes, curled at the
toes, with silver buckles, all stitched and soled and ready to wear.

"Will they fit?" asked Pancho, breathlessly.

"Faery shoes always fit. Now reach them down and hand them round."

This Pancho did with despatch. Nine pairs of little white feet were
thrust joyously into the green shoes and buckled in tight. On looking
back, Pancho was quite sure that this was the happiest moment of his
life. The children squealed and clapped their hands and cried:

"They fit fine!"

"Shoes is grand to wear!"

"I feel skippy."

"I feel dancy."

Whereupon they all jumped to their feet and with arms wide-spread, hand
clasping hand, they ringed about the cobbler and the thorn-bush. They
danced until there was not a scrap of breath left in their bodies; then
they tumbled over and rolled about like a nest of young puppies, while
the cobbler laughed and laughed until he held his sides with the aching.

It was here that everybody remembered about the faery penny; in fact,
that was the one thing remembered by all. And this is hardly strange;
if you or I ever possessed a faery penny--even in the confines of a
primrose ring--we should never forget it.

It was Bridget, however, who reminded the leprechaun. "Ye haven't by
any chance forgotten somethin' ye'd like to be rememberin', have ye?"
she asked, diplomatically.

"I don't know," and the cobbler pulled his thinking-lock. "What might
it be?"

"Sure, it might be a faery penny," and Bridget eyed him anxiously.

The cobbler slapped his apron and laughed again. "To be sure it
might--and I came near forgetting it."

He reached, over and pulled up a tuft of sod at his side; for all one
could have told, it might have been growing there, neighbor to all the
other sods. Underneath was a dark little hole in the ground; and out
of this he brought a brown earthen crock.

"The crock o' gold!" everybody whispered, awesomely.

"Aye, the crock o' gold," agreed the cobbler. "But I keep it hidden,
for there is naught that can make more