"Yes: but what we have is for our company and ourselves--not for beggars," said the girl, and she closed the door upon them.

"Shall we try again, father?" they said to their parent.

"Just this one, which is the last," he answered, leading them to the door of a cot where dwelt a poor and lonely widow.

They paused at the threshold, for a voice was heard within, low and sweet; yet they heard the words of the kneeling form, in deep pet.i.tion, saying, "Give me, O Father, my daily bread; forgive me my trespa.s.ses, and lead me not into temptation. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever and forever. Amen."

She arose at that instant. A gentle knock was heard. Without delay she opened it, and smiled upon the strangers, who asked for more than she could give.

"I have shelter, but no food; yet enter and be welcome," she said, and opened wide the door.

They pa.s.sed in, and left their parent, whom they knew would soon follow, outside.

"I grieve that I have no food to offer thee," said the woman, "but come to my fireside; for the evening air is chilly, and you must need rest."

She placed for them her only chairs beside the fire, saying, "I am glad you come to-night; for this is my last fuel, and to-morrow eve it will be all dark and chill within my dwelling."

The eldest bowed to the woman gracefully, and threw aside her cloak; and at once the others followed her example.

Great was the surprise of the widow. She thought her senses had departed, and, for an instant, had no voice, no words, naught but wonder beaming from her eyes, so sudden and great was the surprise. Another gentle rap at that instant seemed to help her to find herself, and she was hastening to open it, when the eldest one said, "It is our father, come to thank you for admitting angels in disguise; for, though not angels in form, we hope to prove such by our administration to your needs." And they laid upon her only table the purses of gold.

"He will ever give daily bread to those who forget not to entertain strangers," said their father to the widow, as they took their leave of one who had not refused to receive strangers.

The next morning there was great commotion in the neighborhood; for the widow had been seen to exchange gold for bread at one of the shops; but greater still was their surprise when she told them, as they flocked around her dwelling, that it was given by three strangers who had asked for bread and shelter the night before.

"Three strangers!" exclaimed they all. "They must be the same that called at our dwellings. What fools we were that we did not let them in!"

"Nay: it but shows how dead you were in sympathy for human need,"

spoke a voice among them, which, as they turned, they found to be that of the owner of the mansion.

Shame and confusion came over their faces; for he had long been their benefactor, both in words of counsel and deeds of kindness. Their eyes fell to the ground, as he in gentle tones chided them for their lack of kindness and want of faith in the Father's love. "He who giveth not in another's need shall receive none in his own," he continued; "and let the lesson taught you by the experience you have just had, and the example of the poor widow, last you through all the years of your life; for she refused not the strangers whom you turned from your doors the shelter which they apparently needed."

"But they were not cold and hungry," said one of the group.

"The demand upon your sympathies was just the same; for you knew not to the contrary," he answered, and they could not but feel the truth of his words.

The lesson was not lost; for in after years they grew less mercenary, more kindly of heart, and never again closed their doors to strangers asking aid.