"Ha! ha! only hear what he says!" laughed the landlord. "A miserable tailor."
"If you do not stop your impertinence, I will shear off your ears like cloth clippings!" retorted the angry tailor. "Goose and cabbage! man; you shall not trifle with me!"
On this the landlord and waiters turned him bodily out of the house, after seizing upon all his remaining money; and the moment he was in the street, the knowledge of how he had betrayed himself broke upon his mind. Mortified and miserable, he hurried home, determined, after this, to stick to his trade and play fine gentleman no more.
The year at last drew to a close, and Bartlemy had now earned enough to set up for a master tailor; when, one bright moonlight night, he suddenly remembered that it was the very anniversary of his meeting with the goblin. Starting up, he ran to where his pouch was placed, took out the Gold Stone and enjoyed a long look at it, and then, throwing his cloak around him, he hastened forth. The moonlight beamed brightly on the path he was taking, and seemed to throw all sorts of queer shadows before him; now it was an immense yardstick, now a thimble supported on two needles like a pair of spindle legs, then a goose with a pair of shears astride on the handle.
At last, as he paused under the old tree, he heard a familiar croaking laugh, and found himself unexpectedly in the presence of Snippinbitz, the friendly goblin.
"Well, Bartlemy," croaked the being; "and how have you prospered with the Gold Stone?"
"Marvellously well, your worship!" replied Bartlemy, in a joyous tone.
"And you found a crown and a shilling, and a guinea and a crown, instead of your penny and farthing; did you, Bartlemy?"
"Why, yes, your worship, I did, certainly."
"And the Gold Stone changed them, did it, Bartlemy?"