thin. "I was just going to shake you."

But you could see that Rosa had never thought of waking the servant,
her thoughts were otherwise occupied. She was still dreaming with her
eyes open. Oh, if only she could have told some one what she had
dreamt--it had been so beautiful. The Holy Mother had let her hold the
Child Jesus in her arms, and she had felt the soft, warm little body on
her breast. How it had clung to her. Rosa smiled blissfully to herself
as she looked in the tarnished bit of looking-glass, all stained with
soap-suds.

Marianna ran down into the kitchen without washing [Pg 47] herself or
doing her hair. Oh, dear, there stood her mistress at the fireplace,
her hair beautifully done and as neat as ever. Had she even made the
coffee?

"The coffee is ready; you're so late," said Mrs. Tiralla. But she did
not scold the servant for sleeping too long, she merely handed her the
tray with the enormous coffee-cup on. "There, carry it in to him. I've
already put sugar in it."

Marianna stared at her mistress in amazement. Her drowsiness suddenly
disappeared; what she had thought of during the night suddenly occurred
to her again. She stammered something and remained as if rooted to the
spot, until her mistress said to her, laughing, "Take it to him. Why do
you stand there like an idiot?"

No, it would be quite impossible for anybody to laugh like that who had
put poison in the coffee. Marianna drew a breath of relief. But as she
carried the tray across the stone passage she made the sign of the
cross over it--"God bless it!"--as a kind of security. Now nothing
could harm it. And as she smelt the warm, strong coffee, she could not
help drinking some of it. She had had nothing to eat as yet, something
warm would do her good. How strong the coffee was. It tasted quite
bitter in spite of the sugar--pooh! But it was very good, all the same.
She took another big gulp.

"_Psia krew_, you rascally woman! I suppose you're drinking some of my
coffee, as I'm not getting it," shouted Mr. Tiralla from his bedroom. A
boot, thrown by an expert hand, flew through the half-open door right
against Marianna's apron. She gave a loud scream and let the tray fall;
the sweetened coffee ran over her feet and along the stone passage.

"_Psia krew!_" A second boot came flying. The [Pg 48] door was thrown
wide open, and there was Mr. Tiralla sitting on the edge of his bed
angling with his bare feet for his slippers, which had disappe