In the brightness of the winter morning the little paw lay on the table, and looked harmless enough. "How simple we were last night," laughed Mrs. White at the breakfast table. "How could a paw grant wishes? And if it could, how could two hundred pounds hurt you, father?" "They might drop on his head from the sky," said Herbert with a grin. His father told him not to talk such nonsense, and Herbert went off to his work. The day passed, and no money fell from the ceiling or rose through the floor. Towards evening a stranger stopped outside the house, looking up at it. Mr. and Mrs. White watched him from the window, and a strange fear came over them. At last he came in, and the old couple saw that he was well dressed. He stood in silence for a moment, and then began nervously. "I have been asked to call," he said at last. "I come from Maw and Meggins." He paused, and the old people waited, hardly breathing. The old woman caught her breath. "Is anything the matter with Herbert?" she asked. "He is hurt," said the visitor quietly, "but he is not in any pain." Mrs. White rose to her feet. "Is he dead?" she cried. "Yes," said the visitor in a low voice. "He was caught in the machinery." He was the only one near the great machine when it happened. There was a long silence. "He was our only son," said the old man dully. "The firm wishes me to say that they admit no responsibility," the visitor went on. "But in recognition of your son's services, they wish to give you a certain sum." "How much?" asked the old man, not looking up. "Two hundred pounds," was the answer. The old man understood at last, and a low cry broke from him. Without a sound, the old woman fell to the floor in a faint, and her husband stared like a blind man. Somewhere far off the wind cried in the dark, and the fire sank low.