Gilligren was an orphan, and lived with an uncle and aunt who were
very unkind to him. They cuffed him and scolded him upon the slightest
provocation, and made his life very miserable indeed. Gilligren never
rebelled against this treatment, but bore their cruelty silently and
with patience, although often he longed to leave them and seek a home
amongst kinder people.
It so happened that when Gilligren was twelve years old the King died,
and his son was to be proclaimed King in his place, and crowned with
great ceremony. People were flocking to London from all parts of the
country to witness the festivities, and the boy longed to go with
them.
One evening he said to his uncle,
"If I had sixpence I could make my fortune."
"Pooh! nonsense!" exclaimed his uncle, "a sixpence is a small thing.
How then could you make a fortune from it?"
"That I cannot tell you," replied Gilligren, "but if you will give me
the sixpence I will go to London, and not return until I am a rich
man."
"The boy is a fool!" said his uncle, with anger; but the aunt spoke up
quickly.
"Give him the money and let him go," she said, "and then we shall be
well rid of him and no longer be obliged to feed and clothe him at our
expense."
"Well," said her husband, after a moment's thought, "here is the
money; but remember, this is all I shall ever give you, and when it is
gone you must not come to me for more.
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