I have misjudged them!" he thought to himself. "There
are no better people in the world. And how they love the child!"

At tea-time Widow Adamecz appeared on the scene; until now she had not
troubled much about the new priest. She considered herself entitled to a
word in the management of the ecclesiastical affairs of the village, and
based her rights on the fact of her father having grown a beard in his
grave, which, of course, gave him a place among the saints at once.

"Your reverence," she began, "you will want some one to look after the
child."

"Yes, of course, I ought to have some one," he replied, "but the parish
is poor, and ..."

"Nobody is poor but the devil," burst out Widow Adamecz, "and he's poor
because he has no soul. But we have souls. And after all, your reverence
won't know how to dress and undress a child, nor how to wash it and
plait its hair. And then she will often be hungry, and you can't take
her across to the schoolmaster's each time. You must have some one to
cook at home, your reverence. The sacristan is all very well for
sweeping and tidying up a bit, but what does he know about children?"

"True, true; but where am I to ..."

"Where? And am _I_ not here? The Lord created me for a priest's cook,
I'm sure."

"Yes, I daresay. But how am I to pay your wages?"

Widow Adamecz put her hands on her hips, and planted herself in front of
Father Janos.

"Never mind about that, your honor. Leave it to God and to me. He will
pay me. I shall enter your service this evening, and shall bring all my
saucepans and things with me."

The priest was more and more surprised, but even more astonished was his
friend Urszinyi when he came over toward evening and the priest related
the events of the day, and told him of Widow Adamecz's offer.

"What!" he exclaimed, "Widow Adamecz? That old witch? And without
payment? Why, Janos, a greater miracle never yet happened. An inhabitant
of Glogova working for payment from Heaven! You seem to have bewitched
the people."

The priest only smiled, but his heart was full of gratitude. He also
felt that a miracle had taken place; it was all so strange, so
incomprehensible. But he guessed at the cause of the change. The prayer
he had said at the entrance to the church had been heard, and this was
the answer. Yes, it really was a miracle! He had not heard all the
stories that were spread abroad about the red umbrella, and he only
smiled at those that had come to his