ed and studied, worked and worked; and
she became a holy woman, an Abbess. And while she was still very young
and beautiful, she was given charge of a whole convent of nuns and
school-girls not much younger than herself, because she was so much
wiser and better than any one else in all the countryside.

But though Saint Werburgh had grown so famous and so powerful, she still
remained a simple, sweet girl. All the country people loved her, for she
was always eager to help them, to cure the little sick children and to
advise their fathers and mothers. She never failed to answer the
questions which puzzled them, and so she set their poor troubled minds
at ease. She was so wise that she knew how to make people do what she
knew to be right, even when they wanted to do wrong. And not only human
folk but animals felt the power of this young Saint. For she loved and
was kind to them also. She studied about them and grew to know their
queer habits and their animal way of thinking. And she learned their
language, too. Now when one loves a little creature very much and
understands it well, one can almost always make it do what one
wishes--that is, if one wishes right.

For some time Saint Werburgh had been interested in a flock of wild
geese which came every day to get their breakfast in the convent meadow,
and to have a morning bath in the pond beneath the window of her cell.
She grew to watch until the big, long-necked gray things with their
short tails and clumsy feet settled with a harsh "Honk!" in the grass.
Then she loved to see the big ones waddle clumsily about in search of
dainties for the children, while the babies stood still, flapping their
wings and crying greedily till they were fed.

There was one goose which was her favorite. He was the biggest of them
all, fat and happy looking. He was the leader and formed the point of
the V in which a flock of wild geese always flies. He was the first to
alight in the meadow, and it was he who chose the spot for their
breakfast. Saint Werburgh named him Grayking, and she grew very fond of
him, although they had never spoken to one another.

Master Hugh was the convent Steward, a big, surly fellow who did not
love birds nor animals except when they were served up for him to eat.
Hugh also had seen the geese in the meadow. But, instead of thinking how
nice and funny they were, and how amusing it was to watch them eat the
worms and flop about in the water, he thought only, "What