Jinny was crossing the street one afternoon when she spotted something bright in the middle of the crossing — a needle, shining on the cobblestones. She picked it up without hesitating, because a horse might step on it and be hurt.
She pinned it into the fur of her coat and went home and forgot about it.
That night, in the almost-dark of her room, the needle seemed to glow. Brighter and brighter it became, until it looked alive. And then — it was.
“I came from Italy,” said the needle, “with a young seamstress who had almost nothing. She had great skill, though — her embroidery and lacework were finer than anyone else’s, and before long her work was bringing good prices. People sought her out. Little by little, she stopped worrying. Little by little, she began to save.
“Eventually she had enough for a small house of her own. She keeps her workbag now just for pleasure — she sews for friends, for the love of it. Today she was carrying it to a neighbor’s, but there was a hole in the bag, and I fell out. And then you came along and picked me up — to save a horse’s foot.
“I’d like to help you sew, Jinny, if you’d like. My old mistress doesn’t need me anymore.”
When Jinny woke, the needle was still pinned to her coat. She moved it carefully into her workbag, and thought she had never found anything so well worth picking up.
