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 he smeared the rest of the butter on the stone, and returned home. His mother at once asked him who had bought the butter, and what price he had received for it. "I sold it to the town and gave him credit until to-morrow," answered the boy. "How so?" pursued his mother. "You sold it to the town, you say? Why, that's nonsense. I would like to know to whom in town you sold it!" "Well," returned the lad, "I tell you that I sold it to the town, just as you told me to do." "All right, then," observed his mother; "we got rid of the butter, anyway. It was, of course, foolish to let you have it."

Next day the boy wanted to go and collect the money. His mother declared that it would be of no use: she knew he would secure nothing. But he would not listen to her; he went on his own accord, and arrived at the stone. "I have come," said he, "to collect the money for the butter you bought of me yesterday." The stone did not utter a single word, however. Now the boy became angry. "You wretch!" cried he; "yesterday you bought my butter, and to-day you refuse to pay for it—nay, even to answer me. Upon my word, I will show you that I am not to be trifled with." Thus he took hold of the stone and struggled with it until it tipped over, whereupon he found that it had covered a pot filled with money. Not hesitating for a moment, he picked it up and returned home with it.