e. What we have we give gladly, but it is little,
very little. Indeed, who can bear to live in luxury when so many are
perishing in want and misery?"

As they went across the plot, between the little flower-beds, the deacon
pointed to a tree and said with some pride: "Last year that tree bore
me three hundred and seven peaches, and it is still healthy and
productive."

A hospitable light twinkled in the little house at the end of the
garden, and as they entered a queer-looking dog came out to meet his
master, barking his welcome. He jumped with considerable agility on his
fore-legs, but his hind legs were paralyzed and his body sloped away and
stuck up in the air as though it were attached to an invisible board.

"This is my good friend Lazarus," said the old man cheerfully. "I
found the poor beggar in the road one day, and as he was one of God's
creatures, although he is a cripple, I comfort myself with the verse
from the Psalms: 'The Lord has no joy in the strength of a horse,
neither taketh he pleasure in any man's legs.'"

He was so evidently content and merry that Agne could not help laughing
too, and when, in a few minutes, the deacon's wife gave her a warm and
motherly reception she would have been happier than she had been for a
long time past, if only her little brother had not been a weight on her
mind and if she had not longed so sadly to have him safe by her side.
But even that anxiety presently found relief, for she was so weary and
exhausted that, after eating a few mouthfuls, she was thankful to lie
down in the clean bed that Elizabeth had prepared for her, and she
instantly fell asleep. She was in the old deacon's bed, and he made
ready to pass the night on the couch in his little sitting-room.

As soon as the old couple were alone Eusebius told his wife how and
where he had met the girl and ended by saying:

"It is a puzzling question as to these Arians and other Christian
heretics. I cannot be hard on them so long as they cling faithfully
to the One Lord who is necessary to all. If we are in the right--and
I firmly believe that we are--and the Son is of one substance of the
Father, he is without spot or blemish; and what can be more divine than
to overlook the error of another if it concerns ourselves, or what more
meanly human than to take such an error amiss and indulge in a cruel
or sanguinary revenge on the erring soul? Do not misunderstand me. I,
unfortunately--or rather, I say, thank God!--