Old Gerard full of wrath, "I will beat you out of all
reason."

And he began to thrash Young Gerard will all his might, talking between
the blows. "Haven't you been the curse of my life for twenty-one
years?" snarled he. "Can I trust you? Can I leave you? Would the sheep
get their straw? Would the lambs be brought alive into the world? Bah!
for all you care the sheep would go cold and their young would die. And
down yonder they are getting drunk without me!"

"Old shepherd," said a voice behind him.

The angry man, panting with his rage and the exertion of his blows,
paused and turned. Near the corner of the shed he saw a woman in a
duffle cloak standing, or rather stooping, on her crutch. She was so
ancient that it seemed as though Death himself must have forgotten her,
but her eyes in their wrinkled sockets were as piercing as thorns. Old
Gerard, staring at them, felt as though his own eyes were pricked.

"Where have I seen you before, hag?" he said.

"Have you ever seen me before?" asked the old woman.

"I thought so, I thought so"--he fumbled with his memory.

"Then it must have been when we went courting in April, nine-and-ninety
years ago," said the old woman dryly, "but you lads remember me better
than I do you. Can I sleep by your hearth to-night?"

"Where are you going to?" asked Old Gerard, half grinning, half sour.

"Where I'll be welcome," said she.

"You're not welcome here. But there's nothing to steal, you may sleep
by the hearth."

"Thank you, shepherd," said the crone, "for your courtesy. Why were you
beating the boy?"

"Because he's one that won't work."

"Is he your slave?"

"He's my master's slave. But he's idle."

"I am not idle," said Young Gerard. "The year round I'm busy long
before dawn and long after dark."

"Then why are you idle to-day," sneered Old Gerard, "of all the days in
the year?"

"I've something else to think of," said the boy.

"You see," said the old man to the crone.

"Well," said she, "a boy cannot always be working. A boy will sometimes
be dreaming. Life isn't all labor, shepherd."

"What else is it?" said Old Gerard.

"Joy."

"Ho, ho, ho!" went Old Gerard.

"And power."

"Ho, ho, ho!"

"And triumph."

"Not for serfs," said Old Gerard.

"For serfs and lords," she said.

"Ho, ho, ho!"

"You were young once," said the crone.

Old Gerard said, "What if I was?"

"Good night," said the crone; and she went into the shed.

The shepherds loo