The Shilling.
GEORGE HANSON’S uncle had given him a shilling; and George, like most boys, felt very anxious to spend it. But, among his many wants, he found it a hard matter to decide upon which to gratify. If it had been a half-crown instead of a shilling, the difficulty would have been lessened, for then George could have supplied at least half a dozen wants. But it was only a shilling.
He stood at the window, looking out upon the passengers who were going quickly by, the frosty air of December giving lightness to many a step that, in a milder day, would have been less hurriedly taken. While standing here, his mind half made up to gratify his love of cakes and oranges by a whole shilling’s worth, a man went by with some pretty little glass toys in a box, which he held up to the window, and asked if he did not want to buy some.
George beckoned to the man to stop, and then ran to the front door. The man was a glass-blower, and had manufactured some handsome birds, and sheep, and deer, from white glass, which looked, certainly, curious and beautiful.
“How much is this?” asked George, pointing to a bird of paradise.
“Eighteen-pence.”
“But I’ve only got a shilling,” returned George.
“Well, here’s a robin redbreast for a shilling; and here’s a deer, and a sheep. All these on this side are a shilling.”
But George liked the bird of paradise best of all, and couldn’t think of taking anything else.