ttle one has discrimination," she said to herself. "One can see
he is of a good stock. He recognizes that I am no peasant, but the
daughter of a good burgher house."

And, in spite of the remonstrances of her master, she insisted on giving
the lad his way.

"I will accompany him, myself," said she.

And, without further delay or parley, she walked off, under the very
eyes of the master, with the boy, and also with a considerable portion
of his own dinner, in addition to the plate she had already set before
Gottlieb.

* * * * *

A very joyful and miraculous intervention it seemed to Mother Magdalis
when Gottlieb re-entered the hermit's cell, under the stately convoy of
the choir-master's housekeeper, and with food enough to feed the frugal
little household for a week.

The two women greeted each other ceremoniously and courteously, as
became two German housewives of good burgher stock.

"The little lad has manners worthy of a burgomaster," said Ursula. "We
shall see him with the gold chain and the fur robes yet,--his mother a
proud woman."

With which somewhat worldly benediction, she left the little family to
themselves, conjuring Gottlieb to return in less than an hour, for the
master was not always as manageable as this morning.

And when they were alone, Gottlieb was not ashamed to hide his tears on
his mother's heart.

"See, darling mother!" he said, "the dear Savior did send the raven!
Perhaps, one day, He will make us good enough for Him to send the
angels."

Then the simple family all knelt down and thanked God from their hearts,
and Gottlieb added one especial bit of his own of praise and prayer for
his kind Hans, of whom, on account of his grim face and rough voice, he
had stood in some dread.

"Forgive me, dear Lord Jesus," he said, "that I did not know how good he
was!"

And when they had eaten their hasty Christmas feast, and the mother was
smoothing his hair and making the best of his poor garments, Gottlieb
said, looking up gravely in her face:

"Who knows, mother, if Hans is only a raven now, that the good God may
not make him, his very self, the angel?"

"Perhaps God is making Hans into the angel even now," replied the
mother.

And she remembered for a long time the angelic look of love and devotion
in the child's eyes.

For she knew very well the cathedral choir was no angelic host.

She knew she was not welcoming her boy that morning to a haven, b