ch of its thinness and insufficiency to the Baroness, she was
so powerfully affected at parting with it, that all its good qualities
came strongly to her mind.

"It's a very suitable size," she said to herself, "and easy for my
poor old arms to shake or fold. With careful usage, it would last for
years yet; but who knows how two wandering bodies that have been
tramping miles through the storm may kick about in their sleep? And
who knows if they're decent folk at all? likely enough they're two
hedge birds, who have imposed a pitiful tale on the good fathers, and
never slept under anything finer than a shock of straw in their
lives."

The more the good woman thought of this, the more sure she felt that
such was the case, and the less willing she became to lend her blanket
to "a couple of good-for-nothing tramps." A sudden idea decided her.
"Ten to one they bring fever with them!" she cried; "and dear knows I
saw enough good bedding burnt after the black fever, three years ago!
It would be a sin and a shame to burn a good blanket like this." And
repeating "a sin and a shame" with great force, the widow restored the
blanket to its place.

"The coverlet's not worth much," she thought; "but my goodman bought
it the year after we were married, and if anything happened to it I
should never forgive myself. The old shawl is good enough for tramps."
Saying which she took a ragged old shawl from a peg, and began to fold
it up. But even as she brushed and folded, she begrudged the faded
rag.

"It saves my better one on a bad day," she sighed; "but I suppose the
father must have something."

And accordingly she took it to the monk, saying, "It's not so good as
it has been, but there's warmth in it yet, and it cost a pretty penny
when new."

"And is this all that you can spare to the poor houseless strangers?"
asked the monk.

"Aye, indeed, good father," said she, "and that will cost me many a
twinge of rheumatics. Folk at my age can't lie cold at night for
nothing."

"These poor strangers," said the monk, "are as aged as yourself, and
have lost everything."

But as all he said had no effect in moving the widow's compassion, he
departed, and knocked at the door of her neighbour. Here he told the
same tale, which met with a very different hearing. This widow was one
of those liberal souls whose possessions always make them feel uneasy
unless they are being accepted, or used, or borrowed by some one else.
She blessed herse