olf dwelt peacefully together in the meadows of the monastery, and
he shielded her from danger, and like a huge watchdog kept away the
other wild beasts from the herd.

After that came a winter when for weeks the ground was white with snow,
and the laughing mouths of the brooks were sealed with ice. Duke
Colman's little son had been sent to school at the monastery, and the
boy was very ill. He was hot and thirsty, and his throat was parched
with fever. So little Edward begged for juicy apples, and for salad of
fresh sorrel leaves,--things which were not to be found in all the land
in the dead of winter. But Coemgen the Abbot trusted in the power of
his young friend who could tame wolves. "Go forth, my son," he said to
Berach, "take my staff and bring what the boy needs."

Then Berach retired to his cell and prayed that he might be blessed to
save the dear child's life. After that with faith and courage he went
out into the white meadows, using the Abbot's staff to help him over the
great drifts of snow. He came to the row of willows by the frozen brook
where the cows had loved to wade. And here he paused. Lifting the staff,
he touched the bare brown branches of the willow on which the snow clung
like shreds of cotton wool, and he pronounced a blessing. Instantly the
snow began to melt as it does before the sun in April. The stiff brown
twigs turned green and became tender and full of life. Then gray willow
buds put forth woolly little pussy-willows, which seemed fairly
bursting, like fat round kittens. They grew bigger and bigger, rounder
and rounder, till at last they really did burst, and plumped great
rosy-cheeked apples into the lap of the Saint, who held up the skirt of
his gray gown to catch them as they fell. Lo, under the trees meanwhile
the snowdrifts had melted, and little green leaves were poking up
through the frozen ground. And Berach gathered there a great bunch of
juicy, tart sorrel which makes such good salad. Then with his arms
full,--what with this and his apples and the blessed staff,--he
floundered back through the snowdrifts to the monastery. They received
him eagerly and there was great rejoicing. Little Edward was revived by
the out-of-season dainties thus miraculously provided for him, and soon
became quite well again.

It was many years after this, again a hard and cruel winter, when Saint
Berach made another wonder come to pass. Meantime he had grown older and
even wiser. He had himself been