pened his eyes, and lo! upon his breviary, which was on a low
stool near his feet, ruffling all his feathers with a single pull, and
smoothing them as suddenly, and cocking his bill this way and that with
a vast display of cunning purely imaginary, perched a robin redbreast.

Clement held his breath.

He half closed his eyes lest they should frighten the airy guest.

Down came robin on the floor.

When there he went through his pantomime of astuteness; and then,
pim, pim, pim, with three stiff little hops, like a ball of worsted on
vertical wires, he was on the hermit's bare foot. On this eminence he
swelled and contracted again, with ebb and flow of feathers; but Clement
lost this, for he quite closed his eyes and scarce drew his breath in
fear of frightening and losing his visitor. He was content to feel the
minute claw on his foot. He could but just feel it, and that by help of
knowing it was there.

Presently a little flirt with two little wings, and the feathered
busybody was on the breviary again.

Then Clement determined to try and feed this pretty little fidget
without frightening it away. But it was very difficult.

He had a piece of bread within reach, but how get at it? I think he was
five minutes creeping his hand up to that bread, and when there he must
not move his arm.

He slily got a crumb between a finger and thumb and shot it as boys do
marbles, keeping the hand quite still.

Cockrobin saw it fall near him, and did sagacity, but moved not.

When another followed, and then another, he popped down and caught up
one of the crumbs, but not quite understanding this mystery fled with
it, for more security, to an eminence; to wit, the hermit's knee.

And so the game proceeded till a much larger fragment than usual rolled
along.

Here was a prize. Cockrobin pounced on it, bore it aloft, and fled so
swiftly into the world with it, the cave resounded with the buffeted
air.

"Now, bless thee, sweet bird," sighed the stricken solitary; "thy wings
are music, and thou a feathered ray camedst to light my darkened soul."

And from that to his orisons, and then to his tools with a little bit of
courage, and this was his day's work:

Veni, Creator Spiritus,
Mentes tuorem visita,
Imple superna gratia
Quae tu creasti pectora

Accende lumen sensibus,
Mentes tuorum visita,
Infirma nostri corporis,
Virtute firmans perpeti.

And so the days rolled on; and the we