that gold, and the curious painted galleries under it. He thought
it was real solid gold. Real gold laid out on a house-roof,--and
the people all so poor! Findelkind began to muse, and wonder why
everybody did not climb up there and take a tile off and be rich?
But perhaps it would be wicked. Perhaps God put the roof there
with all that gold to prove people. Findelkind got bewildered.

If God did such a thing, was it kind?

His head seemed to swim, and the sunshine went round and round
with him. There went by him, just then, a very venerable-looking
old man with silver hair; he was wrapped in a long cloak.
Findelkind pulled at the coat gently. and the old man looked
down.

"What is it, my boy?" he asked.

Findelkind answered, "I came out to get gold: may I take it off
that roof?"

"It is not gold, child, it is gilding."

"What is gilding?"

"It is a thing made to look like gold; that is all."

"It is a lie, then!

The old man smiled. "Well, nobody thinks so. If you like to put
it so, perhaps it is. What do you want gold for, you wee thing?"