hands.

"Cheer up, mother, I'll go and get work somewhere," said Jack.

"We've tried that before, and nobody would take you," said his mother;
"we must sell Milky-white and with the money do something, start shop,
or something."

"All right, mother," says Jack; "it's market-day today, and I'll soon
sell Milky-white, and then we'll see what we can do."

So he took the cow's halter in his hand, and off he starts. He hadn't
gone far when he met a funny-looking old man who said to him: "Good
morning, Jack."

"Good morning to you," said Jack, and wondered how he knew his name.

"Well, Jack, and where are you off to?" said the man.

"I'm going to market to sell our cow here."

"Oh, you look the proper sort of chap to sell cows," said the man; "I
wonder if you know how many beans make five."

"Two in each hand and one in your mouth," says Jack, as sharp as a
needle.

"Right you are," said the man, "and here they are the very beans
themselves," he went on pulling out of his pocket a number of strange-
looking beans. "As you are so sharp," says he, "I don't mind doing a