“Now, I’ll tell you what,” said Tom to himself, “it’s much pleasanter sitting here in the shade, than broiling over celery trenches, and thinning wall fruit, with a baking sun at one’s back, and a hot wall before one’s eyes.  But I’m a miserable slave.  I must either work or see my family starve; a very hard lot it is to be a workingman.”

“Ahem,” said a voice close to him.  Tom started, and, to his great surprise, saw a small man about the size of his own baby, sitting composedly at his elbow.  He was dressed in green,—­green hat, green coat, and green shoes.  He had very bright black eyes, and they twinkled very much as he looked at Tom and smiled.

“Servant, sir!” said Tom, edging himself a little farther off.

“Miserable slave,” said the small man, “art thou so far lost to the noble sense of freedom that thy very salutation acknowledges a mere stranger as thy master?’

“Who are you,” said Tom, “and how dare you call me a slave?”

“Tom,” said the small man, with a knowing look, “don’t speak roughly.  Keep your rough words for your wife, my man; she is bound to bear them.”

“I’ll thank you to let my affairs alone,” interrupted Tom, shortly.

“Tom, I’m your friend; I think I can help you out of your difficulty.  Every minnow in this stream—­they are very scarce, mind you—­has a silver tail.”

“You don’t say so,” exclaimed Tom, opening his eyes very wide; “fishing for minnows and being one’s own master would be much pleasanter than the sort of life I’ve been leading this many a day.”

“Well, keep the secret as to where you get them, and much good may it do you,” said the man in green.  “Farewell; I wish you joy in your freedom.”  So saying, he walked away, leaving Tom on the brink of the stream, full of joy and pride.

He went to his master and told him that he had an opportunity for bettering himself, and should not work for him any longer.

The next day, he arose with the dawn, and went in search of minnows.  But of all the minnows in the world, never were any so nimble as those with silver tails.  They were very shy, too, and had as many turns and doubles as a hare; what a life they led him!

They made him troll up the stream for miles; then, just as he thought his chase was at an end and he was sure of them, they would leap quite out of the water, and dart down the stream again like little silver arrows.  Miles and miles he went, tired, wet, and hungry.  He came home late in the evening, wearied and footsore, with only three minnows in his pocket, each with a silver tail.

“But, at any rate,” he said to himself, as he lay down in his bed, “though they lead me a pretty life, and I have to work harder than ever, yet I certainly am free; no man can now order me about.”

This went on for a whole week; he worked very hard; but, up to Saturday afternoon, he had caught only fourteen minnows.