“And time and time after the going, lo, no word came unto the mother. And within the lands of the noble the maid lived, and lo, the days wert sorry, and the paths held but shadows, and nay smiles shed gold unto the hours. And she smiled that this noble did offer unto her much of royal stores. Yea, gems, and gold, and all a maid might wish, and she looked in pity unto the noble and spake: “‘What hast thou? Lo, thou hast brought forth of thy store and given unto me, and what doth it buy? Thy lips are ever sorry and thy hours dark. Then take thou these gifts and keep within such an day as thine, for, hark ye, my dame, the field’s woman, hath given unto me that which setteth at a naught thy gifts; for hark ye: mid thy dark o’ sorry I shall spill a laugh, and it be a fairies’ wand, and turneth dust to gold.’ “And she fled unto the sun’s paths of the fields. “Verily do I to say unto thee, this, the power of the fairies’ wand, is thine, thy gift of thy field-mother, Earth. Then cast out that which earth-lands do offer unto thee and flee with thy gift.” It is somewhat difficult to select an ending for this chapter on the prose of Patience: the material for it is so abundant and so varied, but this “Parable of the Cloak” may perhaps form a fitting finish: “There wert a man, and lo, he did to seek and quest o’ sage, that which he did mouth o’ermuch. And lo, he did to weave o’ such an robe, and did to clothe himself therein. And lo, ’twer sun ashut away, and cool and heat and bright and shade. “And lo, still did he to draw ’bout him the cloak, and ’twer o’ the mouthings o’ the sage. And lo, at a day ’twer sent abroad that Truth should stalk ’pon Earth, and man, were he to look him close, shouldst see. “And lo, the man did draw ’bout him the cloak, and did to wag him ‘Nay’ and ‘Nay, ’twer truth the sages did to mouth and I did weave athin the cloak o’ me.’ “And then ’twer that Truth did seek o’ Earth, and she wert clad o’ naught, and seeked the man, and begged that he would cast the cloak and clothe o’ her therein. And lo, he did to draw him close the cloak, and hid his face therein, and wag him ’Nay,’ he did to know her not. “And lo, she did to fetch her unto him athrice, and then did he to wag him still a ‘Nay! Nay! Nay!’ And lo, she toucheth o’ the cloth o’ sage’s mouths and it doth fall atattered and leave him clothed o’ naught, and at a wishing. And he did seek o’ Truth, aye, ever, and when he did to find, lo, she wagged him nay, and nay, and nay.” CONVERSATIONS “This be bread. If man knoweth not the grain from which ’twer fashioned, what then? ’Tis bread. Let man deny me this.”—PATIENCE WORTH.