The old Beggar looked up at us with hungry eyes. "Only a crust of bread,
your Highness!" he pleaded.
[Image...'Drink this!']
He was a fine old man, but looked sadly ill and worn.
"A crust of bread is what I crave!" he repeated. "A single crust,
and a little water!"
"Here's some water, drink this!"
Uggug bellowed, emptying a jug of water over his head.
"Well done, my boy!" cried the Vice-Warden.
"That's the way to settle such folk!"
"Clever boy!", the Wardeness chimed in. "Hasn't he good spirits?"
"Take a stick to him!" shouted the Vice-Warden, as the old Beggar shook
the water from his ragged cloak, and again gazed meekly upwards.
"Take a red-hot poker to him!" my Lady again chimed in.
Possibly there was no red-hot poker handy: but some sticks were
forthcoming in a moment, and threatening faces surrounded the poor old
wanderer, who waved them back with quiet dignity. "No need to break my
old bones," he said. "I am going. Not even a crust!"
"Poor, poor old man!" exclaimed a little voice at my side, half choked
with sobs. Bruno was at the window, trying to throw out his slice of
plum-cake, but Sylvie held him back.
"He shalt have my cake!" Bruno cried, passionately struggling out of
Sylvie's arms.
"Yes, yes, darling!" Sylvie gently pleaded. "But don't throw it out!
He's gone away, don't you see? Let's go after him." And she led him out
of the room, unnoticed by the rest of the party, who were wholly
absorbed in watching the old Beggar.
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