"Agne."

"Agne, or the lamb. A pretty, good name! It is a name I love, as I, too,
am a shepherd, though but a very humble one, so trust yourself to me,
little lamb. Tell me, why are you crying? And whom do you seek here? And
how is it that you do not know where to find a home?"

Eusebius spoke with such homely kindness, and his voice was so full of
fatherly sympathy that hope revived in Agne's breast, and she told him
with frank confidence all he wanted to know.

The old man listened with many a "Hum" and "Ha"--then he bid her
accompany him to his own house, where his wife would find a corner that
she might fill.

She gladly agreed, and thanked him eagerly when he also told the
doorkeeper to bring Papias after them if he should be found. Relieved of
the worst of her griefs, Agne followed her new friend through the streets
and lanes, till they paused at the gate of a small garden and he said:
"Here we are. What we have we give gladly, but it is little, very little.
Indeed, who can bear to live in luxury when so many are perishing in want
and misery?"

As they went across the plot, between the little flower-beds, the deacon
pointed to a tree and said with some pride: "Last year that tree bore me
three hundred and seven peaches, and it is still healthy and productive."

A hospitable light twinkled in the little house at the end of the garden,
and as they entered a queer-looking dog came out to meet his master,
barking his welcome. He jumped with considerable agility on his
fore-legs, but his hind legs were paralyzed and his body sloped away and
stuck up in the air as though it were attached to an invisible board.

"This is my good friend Lazarus," said the old man cheerfully. "I found
the poor beggar in the road one day, and as he was one of God's
creatures, although he is a cripple, I comfort myself with the verse from
the Psalms: 'The Lord has no joy in the strength of a horse, neither
taketh he pleasure in any man's legs.'"

He was so evidently content and merry that Agne could not help laughing
too, and when, in a few minutes, the deacon's wife gave her a warm and
motherly reception she would have been happier than she had been for a
long time past, if only her little brother had not been a weight on her
mind and if she had not longed so sadly to have him safe by her side. But
even that anxiety presently found relief, for she was so weary and
exhausted that, after eating a few mouthfuls, she was thankful to lie