ifted the second leg wearily over the rail.

"As for Art--"

"Words failed him here, and he spat upon the ground, adding--

"Moreover, they shut up their churches!"

This was really a serious matter; for he had not a penny-piece in his
pocket--the last had gone to buy a loaf--and there was no lodging to
be had in the village. The month was April--a bad time to sleep in
the open; and though the night drew in tranquilly upon a day of broad
sunshine, the earth had by no means sucked down the late heavy rains.
The church porch, however, had a broad bench on either side and faced
the south, away from the prevailing wind. He had made a mental note of
this early in the day, being schooled to anticipate such straits as
the present. While, with a gait like a limping hare's, he passed up
the narrow path between the graves, his eyes were busy.

The churchyard was narrow and surrounded by a high grey wall, mostly
hidden by an inner belt of well-grown cypresses. On the south side the
ranks of these trees were broken for some thirty feet, and here the
back of a small dwelling-house abutted on the cemetery. There was one
window only in the yellow-washed wall, and this window--a melancholy
square framed in moss-stained plaster--looked straight into the church
porch. The flageolet-player eyed it suspiciously; but the casement
was shut and the blind drawn down. The whole aspect of the cottage
proclaimed that its inhabitants were very poor folk--not at all the
sort to tell tales upon a casual tramp if they spied him bivouacking
upon holy ground.

He limped into the porch, and cast off the blue bag that was strapped
upon his shoulders. Out of it he drew a sheep's-wool cape, worn very
thin; and then turned the bag inside out, on the chance of a forgotten
crust. The disappointment that followed he took calmly--being on the
whole a sweet-tempered man, nor easily angered except by an affront on
his vanity. His violent rancour against the people of Gantick
arose from their indifference to his playing. Had they taken him
seriously--had they even run out at their doors to listen and
stare--he would not have minded their stinginess.

He who sleeps, sups. The little man passed the flat of his hand,
in the dusk, over the two benches, chose the one which had fewest
asperities of surface, tossed his bag and flageolet upon the other,
pulled off his boots, folded his cape to make a pillow, and stretched
himself at length. In less than ten minute