Chuckles had been following this story with open mouth and eyes.
"I like sand better than rock," he remarked reflectively; and Sidney was glad his aunt was not there to hear him say it.
"Well, you would have chosen a house on sand. What happens to your sand castles?"
"Oh!" said Chuckles, with a beaming face. "You're going to make a storm knock it down. I should like to have been there to see it."
Sidney went on hurriedly.
"Yes; one day the clouds rolled up, and the sky got black, and the wind rolled the waves in with a boom and a crash, and the two men got inside their houses and hoped they would be safe. But, alas! The house on the sand soon began to rock and sway, and the sea rushed in at the bottom, and then suddenly it all crumpled up and fell down with an awful crash, and the man and his family were crushed to death."
"And the other house?"
Chuckles' eyes were nearly starting out of his head.
"Well, the slow man looked out of his window, and saw his neighbour's house destroyed, and his wife began to cry and say: 'It will be our turn next.' And then he said, with a proud smile: 'No; we are built upon the rock, and the ocean itself and all the storms in the world won't wash us away.'
"He was right. The waves dashed against his house, and the wind beat it, and the rain poured down; but when the storm was over and the sun shone out there was his house safe and sound, and the other was in ruins. Now, which do you think was best?"