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From her earliest years it had been a family joke that poor Madam Liberality was always in ill-luck's way. It is true that she was constantly planning; and if one builds castles, one must expect a few loose stones about one's ears now and then. But, besides this, her little hopes were constantly being frustrated by fate.
Ill-Luck's face was as gray as ashes, and his hair as white as snow for he is as old as Grandfather Adam and two great wings grew out of his shoulders for he flies fast and comes quickly to those whom he visits, does Ill-Luck. Now, St. Nicholas had a pocketful of hazel-nuts, which he kept cracking and eating as he trudged along the road, and just then he came upon one with a worm-hole in it.
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