now you may read what is written on the paper."

"Now I know," said Sir Richard, shaking his head, "what charm you gave
to the woman and her child forty years ago. Was I not right? It was a
deception."

"Who knows?" said the Baron Harcourt cheerfully. "It has not failed
to-day. Fortune has favoured Faith."

He turned to the clerk. "Make record that this case is dismissed for
want of evidence against the accused. The woman has done no harm. The
court is adjourned."

"And my charm," said the woman eagerly--"oh, my Lord, you will give me
back my charm?"

"That I must keep for you," he said with kindness, as to a child. "But
you may still open the windows, and throw out the black draught, and
tell the children of the Garden of Good Dreams. Trust me, that will
work wonders."

HALF-TOLD TALES

BEGGARS UNDER THE BUSH

STRONGHOLD

IN THE ODOUR OF SANCTITY

BEGGARS under the BUSH

[Illustration]

As I came round the bush I was aware of four beggars in the shade of
it, counting their spoils.

They sat at their ease, with food and a flagon of wine before them and
silver cups, for all the world like gentlefolk on a picnic, only
happier. But I knew them for beggars by the boldness of their asking
eyes and the crook in their fingers.

They looked at me curiously, as if to say, "What do you bring us?"

"Nothing, gentlemen," I answered, "I am only seeking information."

At this they moved uneasily and glanced at one another with a crafty
look of alarm. Their crooked fingers closed around the cups.

"Are you a collector of taxes?" cried the first beggar.

"Certainly not," I replied with heat, "but a payer of them!"

"Come, come," said the beggar, with a wink at his comrades, "no insult
intended! Only a prudent habit of ours in these days of mixed society.
But you are evidently poor and honest. Take a chair on the grass.
Honesty we love, and to poverty we have no objection--in fact, we
admire it--in others."

So I sat down beside them in the shade of the bush and lit my pipe to
listen.

In the hot field below, a man was ploughing amid the glare of the sun.
The reins hung about his neck like a halter, and he clung to the
jerking handles of the plough while the furrows of red earth turned
and fell behind him like welts on the flank of the hill.

"A hard life," said the second beggar, draining his cup, "but healthy!
And very useful! The world must have bread."

"Plenty of it," said the third