Bartlemy scratched his head and took off his cap, looked into it, found no words there, and put it on again; and finally, with a bow that nearly toppled him head over heels, and a kick up of his foot that sent his remaining slipper flying into the nearest mud-puddle, he managed to say:
"Please, your worship, I want to find the Gold Stone."
The goblin burst into a discordant laugh on hearing this; then, suddenly becoming serious, he said:
"Well, that's a sensible request, Bartlemy, and a modest one, considering the circumstances. Never mind, I have taken a fancy to you; your wish shall be accomplished. See here."
With these words Snippinbitz put his hand in his pocket, and pulled out a magnificent jewel, as it seemed to Bartlemy. It was of the most resplendent purple color imaginable, and sparkled all over with flecks of gold, which seemed to swim beneath the surface. Nothing could look more gorgeously beautiful as the astonished tailor held it up in the moonlight; yes, there could be no doubt of it; the mysterious, the unattainable Gold Stone was really his!
"Now, Bartlemy, attend to me," continued the being. "The Gold Stone is yours, but under certain conditions, which must be faithfully complied with, or no gold! First, you must return to London to-morrow, seek out your old master, and ask him to employ you as a regular workman. You will find yourself able to sew as well as the best, through my assistance, and you must employ this power diligently on the work he gives you to do. I warn you, however, that you must keep the secret of the Gold Stone from everybody; and, in order that you may do so, you must never take it out of your pouch until you are safe in your own chamber. Secondly, when you receive your wages, place the money directly in the pouch containing the Gold Stone, and do not look at it until you go to bed. Then you will find the copper turned into silver, and the silver into gold. But if you count the money first, it will never be any different. Thirdly, in a year's time from to-night, meet me at this spot, and tell me how you have prospered. Will you keep these conditions faithfully?"
"Ye-y-es! your worship!" stammered the 'prentice.
"Then, how are you, Mr. Gold Stone!" exclaimed the goblin, in advance of the age; and, with an outrageous wink, he treated Bartlemy to another whack with the yardstick, and vanished.