"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?"

"To build a monastery and house the poor."

The old man's face scowled and grew dark, for he was a Lutheran
pastor from Bavaria.

"Who taught you such trash?" he said crossly.

"It is not trash. It is faith."

And Findelkind's face began to burn and his blue eyes to darken
and moisten. There was a little crowd beginning to gather, and the
crowd was beginning to laugh. There were many soldiers and rifle-
shooters in the throng, and they jeered and joked, and made fun of
the old man in the long cloak, who grew angry then with the child.
"You are a little idolater and a little impudent sinner!" he said
wrathfully, and shook the boy by the shoulder, and went away, and
the throng that had gathered round had only poor Findelkind left
to tease.

He was a very poor little boy indeed to look at, with his