could not fathom. .. The little one had her limited understanding and discernment, and she had her intense love for the tender mother; yet artless childhood, with its peremptory judgments and rights, soon burst out in these words shaken with sobbing: I don't like this food, and I will never eat it... I want fish. Her voice rose in weeping, and the hot drops began to fall in bursts from the two broken eyes, and the food seemed to dance before her through the tears. And she wished she could ask a second question, and a third — a tenth, even... about the reason that had driven the tender mother to thwart her and mock her, after promising her what she had asked. Then she felt a mad need to fill the house with clamor and protest; she even wished she could smash all the dishes and china in it... But one unintended glance at her mother — whose face had put on a holy raiment, tenderness mingled with pain, while a great tear trembled slowly down the smooth cheek — nailed her to her place, and her child-ish vehemence subsided on the instant, while the mother, coming close until her fingers touched the golden hair, said to her: — Don't you know, my little one, that we have come to need money very badly, and that your father... is far away from us... and that we have no help in life but God? The little one answered not a word, and did not know what she ought to say... though she understood everything — even that tear... Yes, she said nothing. But she raised her small hand with utter tenderness, took the hand playing with her hair, and pressed upon it a brief kiss. Then she set about eating her food, her mouth parting in a smile that was virtue in its cradle — or the Creator's wisdom when it passes, like a flash of lightning, through great souls — or innocent humanity in its spotless robe, not yet soiled by the mires of the world. An hour later... the shadow of night

had thickened, the movement of the passers-by had quieted, and the crescent moon showed from behind the mist at the western horizon, then soon vanished into it a second time, never to

return. And the wick of the little dim-lighted lamp,

swaying on the breaths of the air, went on sinking and flaring... then went out at last, and pitch dark-ness settled over the cold room.

The mother was still bent over