looking and thin. Now I have just been to see a tradesman's wife (a woman from our village is in service with her) and she has promised to take me. I thought it was all settled at last, but she tells me not to come till next week. It is far to her place, and I am fagged out, and baby is quite starved, poor mite. Fortunately our landlady has pity on us, and lets us lodge free, else I don't know what we should do.'
Martin sighed. 'Haven't you any warmer clothing?' he asked.
'How could I get warm clothing?' said she. 'Why, I pawned my last shawl for sixpence yesterday.'
Then the woman came and took the child, and Martin got up. He went and looked among some things that were hanging on the wall, and brought back an old cloak.
'Here,' he said, 'though it's a worn-out old thing, it will do to wrap him up in.'
The woman looked at the cloak, then at the old man, and taking it, burst into tears. Martin turned away, and groping under the bed brought out a small trunk. He fumbled about in it, and again sat down opposite the woman. And the woman said:
'The Lord bless you, friend. Surely Christ must have sent me to your window, else the child would have frozen. It was mild when I started, but now see how cold it has turned. Surely it must have been Christ who made you look out of your window and take pity on me, poor wretch!'
Martin smiled and said; 'It is quite true; it was he made me do it. It was no mere chance made me look out.'
And he told the woman his dream, and how he had heard the Lord's voice promising to visit him that day.
'Who knows? All things are possible,' said the woman. And she got up and threw the cloak over her shoulders, wrapping it round herself and round the baby. Then she bowed, and thanked Martin once more.
'Take this for Christ's sake,' said Martin, and gave
