"Tell me all about it, my daughter," the bishop said, and the woman
poured out her story--the old story of a husband who provided for his
family after a fashion, when he was sober, but left them to starve
when the drink demon possessed him. He had been away now for three
weeks, and there was no money for medicine for the sick child, or food
for the others.
Before the story was told the bishop's hand was in his pocket and he
held out some money to the woman, saying,
"Go out and buy what you need. It will be better for you to get it,
than for me to. The breath of air will do you good, and I will see to
the children until you come back."
She hesitated for a moment, then with a word of thanks, threw a shawl
over her head and was gone.
The bishop gathered the three older children about him, one on each
knee and the third held close to his side, and told them stories that
held them spellbound until the sick baby began to stir and moan
feebly. Then the bishop arose, and taking the little creature tenderly
in his strong arms, walked back and forth in the small room until the
moaning cry ceased and the child slept. He had just laid it again on
the bed when the mother came back with her arms full of packages. The
look of dull despair was gone from her worn face, and there was a
gleam of hope in her eyes as she hastily prepared the medicine for the
baby, while the bishop eagerly tore open one of the packages, and put
bread into the hands of the other children.
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