THE WILD SWANS
she lay her head, the shirts she had woven must serve her as mattress and counterpane; but they could not have given her anything she valued so much; and she continued her work,
I MUST VENTURE TO THE CHURCH-YARD
at the same time praying earnestly to her God. The boys sang scandalous songs about her in front of her prison; not a soul comforted her with one word of love.