then, may take
too long to teach a pretty girl her Pater Noster--but I'm not sure we
shall be better off when they're gone. Formerly, if a child too many
came to poor folk they could always comfort themselves with the thought
that, if there was no room for him at home, the Church was there to
provide for him. But if we drive out the good friars, a man will have to
count mouths before he dares look at his wife too lovingly."

"Well," said the scribe with a dry smile, "I've a notion the good friars
have always taken more than they gave; and if it were not for the gaping
mouths under the cowl even a poor man might have victuals enough for his
own."

The first speaker turned on him contentiously.

"Do I understand you are for this new charter, then?" he asked.

"No, no," said the other. "Better hot polenta than a cold ortolan.
Things are none too good as they are, but I never care to taste first of
a new dish. And in this case I don't fancy the cook."

"Ah, that's it," said the soft man. "It's too much like the apothecary's
wife mixing his drugs for him. Men of Roman lineage want no women to
govern them!" He puffed himself out and thrust a hand in his bosom.
"Besides, gentlemen," he added, dropping his voice and glancing
cautiously about the room, "the saints are my witness I'm not
superstitious--but frankly, now, I don't much fancy this business of the
Virgin's crown."

"What do you mean?" asked a lean visionary-looking youth who had been
drinking and listening.

"Why, sir, I needn't say I'm the last man in Pianura to listen to
women's tattle; but my wife had it straight from Cino the barber, whose
sister is portress of the Benedictines, that, two days since, one of the
nuns foretold the whole business, precisely as it happened--and what's
more, many that were in the Church this morning will tell you that they
distinctly saw the blessed image raise both arms and tear the crown from
her head."

"H'm," said the young man flippantly, "what became of the Bambino
meanwhile, I wonder?"

The scribe shrugged his shoulders. "We all know," said he, "that Cino
the barber lies like a christened Jew; but I'm not surprised the thing
was known in advance, for I make no doubt the priests pulled the wires
that brought down the crown."

The fat man looked scandalised, and the first speaker waved the subject
aside as unworthy of attention.

"Such tales are for women and monks," he said impatiently. "But the
business has its s