Then little Randal bared his arms too, and got a leathern apron on, and began to work with all his might, thinking only of the beautiful fairy palace, that stood so silent and majestic in the midst of the shady pine-grove.
What could be within its walls? When should he obtain a peep at all the wondrous things he had heard of? Not till his key was ready!
And alas! it was heavy work at the smithy. Day after day must the little mechanic toil, till the great beads of perspiration gathered upon his brow.
As for the other apprentices, only some wrought steadily on, with unflinching courage. Most of them, who were beginners, like Randal, idled when the master locksmith chanced to leave the forge, and skimped their work, and grumbled, and declared there was nothing in the palace worth the labour.
One boy, whose key was almost shaped, gave up in despair, cried out that all the treasures of Fairyland should not induce him to work another minute; then flung down his tools upon the ground, tore off his apron, and ran out into the green fields.
This discouraged many of the little workmen, who, one by one, dropped their implements, and slipped away, murmuring that the task was too difficult and tedious.
Poor Randal felt sorely tempted to follow their example; and indeed he might have yielded, too, had not one pale-faced, earnest-looking boy, who held a file and piece of polished metal in his hand, exclaimed,—
"Six times have I tried my key in the lock of the palace door, and all in vain. The seventh time I must succeed—and then—the treasures are mine!"
"What that pale-faced boy can do, I can do," said Randal to himself; and, like a thorough workman, he set himself bravely to his task, determined, come what might, to finish it.
And every morning, when Randal left his home, and started for the forge, he took his way through the pine grove, just to gaze a moment with awe and admiration at the fairy palace, and for the twentieth time to fancy himself deftly turning the key in the lock, and gliding softly in.