But, most precious of all her possessions, was a little altar carved in ivory. In size, it was no larger than an apple; but it had two little doors, which, opening, showed a little stall, in which sat the Holy Virgin with the Child on her lap and, behind, a yellow ox and a grey donkey looking out across the manger and breathing upon the two. On the left, knelt the shepherds surrounded by their fleecy sheep; and, from the right, came the three kings with golden crowns on their heads and dressed in cloaks of violet, red and green. The black one was smiling and showing his white teeth, as they offered their gifts. All of the figures were just like life! The Virgin had a beautiful face with blue eyes and dark eyebrows, and the Babe was all pink and held in His hands a little golden apple. It was a rare and precious piece of work, which the herb woman had been told was a relic of olden times, having come from the castle in the wood above the hut, to which it had been brought by one of the knights from the Holy Land. All day long, the herb woman had much to do in caring for her house, fetching and drying her herbs and brewing her medicines. From one week's end to the other, she was never idle. But, on Sunday afternoons, when her work was done, she would take the little altar and place it on the press between the windows. Sitting down before it in a comfortable leather armchair, she would read to herself from a very old book, ornamented with hammered brass and with colored stones set in the covers. Her book told all about the patient Griselda, the siege of Troy, about Siegfried, Brunswick, Blanik, and many other brave heroes. Around the first letter of each story, were painted knights, princesses, men-at-arms, magic castles, and scenes from strange, oversea countries. Looking at the pictures in her book and at the little figures of the altar, the old woman would think of bygone days when she was a bright little child, playing with her friends in make-believe weddings and christenings before this same little altar; and when her grandmother, sitting in the same old chair, would read to them stories from the old book and tell them of the former fame of their knightly home; of how the knights fared forth to the Holy Land, while their wives sat at home in the great castle, embroidering silks and cambrics, and the little children played in the castle garden. Her thoughts travelled back to herself, growing into beautiful girlhood; then, as a bride and the happy wife of a good husband; later, as the mother of two beautiful babies; then, sad memories crowded her weary head. Her husband and the two little children had died and she was left alone, without any relatives and without money, and with only this little hut in the shadow of the wood where she might live and earn her food.