he despised piece of workmanship, at
which he had toiled so carefully and conscientiously all these weeks,
back home to his obscure lodging in Cobweb Corner. Here, overcome with
vexation, the little man flung himself upon his bed, and cried himself
asleep.

When he awoke it was evening. A fresh breeze was gently stirring the
casement, the window was open, and the swallows passing and repassing it
in circles, producing a screaming, chattering noise all the time.

Caspar's eye fell first on his work-table, on which lay, side by side,
his latest, best work, the brand new shoes for the king. Ah! the
swallows saw them too, and this was the cause of all the extra
twittering and screaming this evening.

"Dear feathered friends," cried Caspar, springing to the open window,
"how can ye help me? They are finished! They fit! But how are they to be
conveyed to His Majesty? The menials in the castle would not let me in."

"Wee--wee--we could carry _one_!" piped the swallows, slily, dipping
their long lanced wings, and swirling swiftly by.

"No, not _one_, ye silly creatures!" cried Caspar all out of breath;
"_both_ or none!"

The swallows made a second long sweep, and as they neared the gablet
again, hissed forth, "Singly were surer." But, as Caspar made a sign of
impatience, four of his friends, the swifts, darted straight across the
window-sill to the work-table, and, seizing the new shoes by heel and
toe, sped off with them across the old wall to the royal castle.

It seemed but an instant and they were back, screaming and hissing and
circling towards their nest in the eaves. Caspar put his head out at
the open casement, and listened anxiously to their sounds.

"Dropped them at his bed-room window--the little balcony--some one
opened--took them in--so, so, sleep well, sleep well,--goodnight!"

The following morning Caspar the cobbler was up and dressed before
daybreak, and down in the streets, in and out amongst the crowds, trying
to overhear some gossip about the king.

The city folk were surprised to see him once more in their midst; and
good-naturedly permitted him to sit at their firesides for old times'
sake, although he called for no ale, nor lighted a long pipe like the
others. All poor Caspar desired was to ascertain the latest court news;
but, to his annoyance, he was doomed to learn first a great many things
that did not please him about Dame Dimity and Christie Clogs.

At last, late on in the afternoon, som