ne horse, who praised her 'golden locks,' as he called them; and oddly
enough, when Melchior said that the man was a lout, and that the locks
in question were corkscrewy carrot shavings, she only seemed to like the
man and his compliments the more. Meanwhile, the untidy brother pored
over his book, or if he came to the window, it was only to ridicule the
fine ladies and gentlemen, so Melchior sent him to Coventry. Then
Hop-o'-my-thumb had taken to make signs and exchange jokes with some
disreputable-looking youths in a dog-cart; and when his brother would
have put him to 'sit still like a gentleman' at the bottom of the coach,
he seemed positively to prefer his low companions; and the rest were
little better.

"Poor Melchior! Surely there never was a clearer case of a young
gentleman's comfort destroyed solely by other people's perverse
determination to be happy in their own way instead of in his.

"At last he lost patience, and pulling the check-string, bade Godfather
Time drive as fast as he could.

"Godfather Time frowned, but shook his glass all the same, and away they
went at a famous pace. All at once they came to a stop.

"'Now for it,' said Melchior; 'here goes one at any rate.'

"Time called out the name of the second brother over his shoulder; and
the boy stood up, and bade his brothers and sisters good-bye.

"'It is time that I began to push my way in the world,' said he, and
passed out of the coach and in among the crowd.

"'You have taken the only quiet boy,' said Melchior to the godfather,
angrily. 'Drive fast, now, for pity's sake; and let us get rid of the
tiresome ones.'

"And fast enough they drove, and dropped first one and then the other;
but the sisters, and the reading boy, and the youngest still remained.

"'What are you looking at?' said Melchior to the lame sister.

"'At a strange figure in the crowd,' she answered.

"'I see nothing,' said Melchior. But on looking again after a while, he
did see a figure wrapped in a cloak, gliding in and out among the
people, unnoticed, if not unseen.

"'Who is it?' Melchior asked of the godfather.

"'A friend of mine,' Time answered. 'His name is Death.'

"Melchior shuddered, more especially as the figure had now come up to
the coach, and put its hand in through the window, on which, to his
horror, the lame sister laid hers and smiled. At this moment the coach
stopped.

"'What are you doing?' shrieked Melchior. 'Drive on! drive on!'

"But ev