One summer morning, a tailor sat by his open window, cross-legged on his table, drawing a neat seam through a coat of blue cloth. Below in the street, a woman called, "Good jam for sale! Good plum jam!" The tailor leaned out at once. He had a small purse and a careful hand, but the smell of warm fruit pleased him. He bought a little pot, cut himself a piece of bread, and spread the jam thick upon it. Then he laid the bread beside him and went on sewing, meaning to eat it in a moment.
But the sweet smell rose through the room, and with it came flies from every corner. They settled on the bread as if it had been set out just for them. The tailor waved them away once, then twice, but they came back in a black, busy cluster. "Wait there," he said, snatching up a scrap of cloth. Down it came in one quick slap. When he lifted it, the bread was his again, and seven flies lay still upon the board. "Well struck," said the tailor, looking at them with bright eyes. "Seven at one blow."
The words pleased him so much that he fetched a strip of linen and stitched them upon it in large letters: SEVEN AT ONE BLOW. He buckled the belt around his middle and stood before the little mirror by the wall. "A man should not keep such a deed hidden in one room," he said. So …
6 chapters
