people to satisfy her selfish desires and
then discarded them ruthlessly. She had gone through life without loving
one single soul--of that I felt convinced--and no one had loved her, and
she had died unregretted. She must have been as wretched on earth as she
was there in Hell; for which of us can be happy here, if we do not love
and are not loved?

"'There is no chance of a voice being raised in her favour,' I said to
myself. But I was wrong; for at that moment a lovely angel-child flew
past me on its blue and white wings. Without any sign of fear it flew
direct to St. Peter, who looked formidable enough with his long beard and
great keys, and, pointing with its little forefinger to the hard-hearted
woman, cried: 'She once gave me a handful of nuts.'

"'Really,' answered the keeper of Heaven. 'That was not much, and yet I
am surprised; for that woman would not part with so much as a pin, during
her life. But you little one, who were you on earth?'

"'Little Hannele was my name,' answered the angel. 'I died of starvation,
and only once did any one give me anything in my life to make me happy,
and that was that woman yonder.'

"'Marvellous,' answered Peter, stroking his white beard. 'No doubt the
nuts were given as a miserly payment of some service you did her.'

"'No, no,' the angel answered decidedly.

"'Well, tell us how it happened then,' the apostle commanded, and the
dear little soul obeyed:

"'My sick mother and I lived in the city all alone, for father was dead.
Just before Christmas we had nothing more to eat. So mother, though she
lay in bed and her head and hands were burning, made some little sheep of
bits of wood and cotton and I carried them to the Christmas market. There
I sat on some steps and offered them for sale to the passers-by; but
nobody wanted them. Hours passed, and it was very cold; the open wound in
my knee, which no one saw, pained me so, and the frost in my fingers and
toes burned and itched dreadfully. Evening came, the lamps were lighted,
but I dared not go home; for only one person had thrown a copper into my
lap, and I needed more to buy a bit of bread and a few coals. My own
pangs hurt me, but that mother lay at home alone, with no one to hand her
anything, or support her when her breathing became difficult, hurt me
still more. I could hardly bear to sit on the cold steps any longer, and
my eyes were blind with tears. A barrel was set down in front of the
house, and while a cler