"Thus you see that our ancestor invented trying seven times, although I think the Bruce usually gets more credit than the spider. When this wise spider grew older he went to Spain in the helmet of the good Lord Douglas who was killed by the Moors, so that they got his helmet and your great-great-great-grandfather, who kept quiet enough in the darkest corner until he was carried to Granada, where he lived a long while and found the flies many, and tender, and of good flavour. And this was one of his stories which he had gotten at Granada, when he lay among the Moors."
Then all the young spiders listened, and the old mother spider began.
"One night the King Almanzor was walking alone when he overheard three water-carriers gossiping.
"'I would not be the King,' said Amric, the first who spoke. 'Every morning before prayers I peep through a crack in the wall of the Palace garden, and always I see the King grave and sober, just when the sun is rising red and the birds are laughing and telling their dreams. I would not be a King, to look sober at dawn every day in the year. A grave man is the King.'
"'Bosh!' said the second, whose name was Hassan. 'The King is a sad man. He must have done some evil in his youth, for just before noon-day prayers I look into the Palace garden from my window, and lo! always the King kneels weeping at the great fountain, which we call the forest of waters.'
"'And I,' cried Amrah, 'think ye both wrong. A merry man is King Almanzor. For ever at evening, when the minarets call to prayer, I have seen the King at the fountain laughing, always laughing, always glad. A foolish man must the King be to laugh at nothing.'
"'He's too sober,' said one.
"'Too sad,' cried the second.
"'Too merry,' said the third.
"Then each held to his own opinion, and abused the others, until from words they came to blows.