Lily.
I don't know. Tell me a story till she comes.
Julian
(taking her, and sitting with her on his knees by the fire).
Come then, my little Lily, I will tell you
A story I have read this very night.
[She looks in his face.]
There was a man who had a little boy,
And when the boy grew big, he went and asked
His father to give him a purse of money.
His father gave him such a large purse full!
And then he went away and left his home.
You see he did not love his father much.
Lily.
Oh! didn't he?—If he had, he wouldn't have gone!
Julian.
Away he went, far far away he went,
Until he could not even spy the top
Of the great mountain by his father's house.
And still he went away, away, as if
He tried how far his feet could go away;
Until he came to a city huge and wide,
Like London here.
Lily.
Perhaps it was London.
Julian.
Perhaps it was, my child. And there he spent
All, all his father's money, buying things
That he had always told him were not worth,
And not to buy them; but he would and did.
Lily.
How very naughty of him!
Julian.
Yes, my child.
And so when he had spent his last few pence,
He grew quite hungry. But he had none left
To buy a piece of bread. And bread was scarce;
Nobody gave him any. He had been
Always so idle, that he could not work.
But at last some one sent him to feed swine.