on the last night, he lay in a soaking rain. So when he limped into the village he was a sorry-looking boy instead of the neat and trim appearing boy Maria had started out. He asked a boy where Helena lived, but was given a saucy answer, and a threat to set the dogs on him. A maiden coming from the village well with a pitcher on her shoulder, turned at his question.
“What will you with Boerasa Helena?” she asked.
Peter tried to make a proper bow before this beautiful maiden, but he failed for very weakness.
“Maria, the wife of Sabas sent me,” he gasped out.
“Then come with me,” she. commanded, “Helena is my mother.”
Peter followed thankfully. He had been afraid of these tall, fine houses, and of the people whom he saw in far grander clothes than those of the village he had left. But at the threshold, he sank down, unable to take another step. Boerasa Helena herself carried him in, and put him to bed. He was able to tell her that he came from Maria, and why he had been sent away.
“They bade me tell you that I was a good workman, and to ask if there was aught I could do to help you.”
“We will speak of that to-morrow,” said Helena. “I will bring you food now, and you shall rest.”
She brought him a great bowl of broth and bread, and hungry Peter thought it the best thing he had ever eaten. He fell asleep promptly, without hardly noticing his surroundings.
He awoke in the morning, feeling quite himself again. He heard no one stirring, so he lay still, and looked
