The Potter’s Luck, IV

Then she, the eldest, at his shoulder, said, Putting one fair, bare arm about his head, Her eyes bent down, her fingers pale and thin, Going so soft along his rough gray chin: “You say the Lord knows why such luck should fall; It seems to me, now, just no luck at all! But for your working all the day alone Beside the royal wood, this precious stone Would not have fallen upon your knee,—nor then The silver crown of this fine gentleman! To pay an honest debt is not so ill; To earn the pay you get, is better still!” And you who read the tale, I trust, agree The honor went where honor ought to be.