, then we went out
and broke our fast in the sunshine, sitting on rocks by the wood
fire. How hungry I was in that hill's pure air!

When he had done, Greenwood showed me some of the workings of the
Shrine. A young mother, filleted and stately, brought her baby to
him. Almost naked but roped with beads, the boy hung in the pied
sheep-skin at her back. Greenwood folded a handkerchief that he
had brought from the Altar about his dusky head. It was of faded
blue and silver. Then he said prayers to the Father and to
Christ, and again to both of them, for the prayers of Saint Lucy
and that other.

'It is not good to drug children so young, is it? He asked the
question as though defending himself.

'I think this may soothe him better than a powder.'

He told me how he had found that kerchief wrapped about his own
head on a certain sunny day when he lay sick aboard ship. 'It was
hers,' he said, 'handkerchiefs and aprons are Bible remedies.'

Other pilgrims or patients came to him after that mother with her
child. He persuaded three or four of them to carry letters to the
doctor in the town. But he prayed for these too, and signed them
with oil from the Shrine lamp, ere he trusted them to his
friend's salves or surgery. By and by came three young men with a
boy. He was stricken and mad, they said. He had come home from
work in a distant town last month. Now he would stay speechless
for hours. He would wander far by day, and brood over the fire by
night.

'Let him stay if he will,' Greenwood said. 'Let him wait in peace
here, and eat and sleep his fill, if he so desires. If he shall
sleep in the Holy Place a few nights, who can say what wonder
Christ may do?'

The boy seemed to be an old friend of his, and stayed quietly by
him. His companions started off joyously down the hill, one of
them playing on the marimba. 'This is Merrie England come again,'
said I. 'Did not an unburnt Lollard upbraid the bagpipe din or
other music of pilgrims long ago? Wasn't that "lewd losel" told
by the Kentish Archbishop how useful such music might be say if a
pilgrim struck his toe on a stone?'

'There are many pilgrims at this Shrine,' said Greenwood smiling.
'I am glad about it. I think she would be glad if she knew.'

'Where is she?' I asked. 'Doesn't she know?'

'I have tried hard to track her,' he said. 'Not a trace have I
found. I have asked our missions, I have asked the White Fathers.
I have asked Africans and Scots and Dutch