the
dressing-table, and half a dozen more were gliding about inquisitively
on the floor.

Hildebrand gathered his clothes together--a snake tumbled out of his
shirt as he lifted it--and made one bound for the door. He dressed on
the landing, and went to school without breakfast. I am glad to be able
to tell you that he did say to Sarah the housemaid:

'For goodness' sake don't go into my bedroom--it's running alive with
snakes!'

She did not believe him, of course; and, indeed, when she went up the
snakes were safe back in the pot. She did not see this, because she was
not the kind of girl who sweeps under things every day. That night
Hildebrand secretly slept in the boxroom, on a pile of newspapers, with
a rag-bag and a hearthrug over him.

Next day he said to Sarah:

'Did you go into my room yesterday?'

'Of course,' said she.

'Did you take the snakes away?'

'Go along with your snakes!' she said.

So he understood that she had not seen any, and very cautiously he
looked into his room, and finding it snakeless, crept in, hoping that
the snakes had changed back into gold. But they had not--snakes and gold
and pot had all vanished. Then he thought he would be very careful. He
said to Ethel:

'I had twenty golden sovereigns in my pocket yesterday.'

This was Saturday. Next day was Sunday, and all day long he jingled the
twenty golden sovereigns he had found that morning in his knickerbocker
pocket. But they were not there on Monday. And then he saw that though
he could make things _happen_, he could not make them _last_. So he told
Ethel he had had seven jam-tarts. He meant to eat them as soon as he got
them. But the next day when they came he had a headache and did not
want to eat them. He might have given them to Ethel, but he didn't, and
next day they had disappeared.

It was very annoying to Hildebrand to know that he had this wonderful
power, yet he could not get any good out of it. He tried to consult his
father about it, but Mr. Pilkings said he had no time for romances, and
he advised Hildebrand to learn his lessons and stick to the truth. But
this was just what Hildebrand could not do, even after the awful
occasion when his schoolfellows began to tease him again, and, to
command their respect, he related how he had met a bear in the lane by
the church and fought it single-handed, and been carried off more dead
than alive. Next day, of course, he had to fight the bear, which was
very brown and