Brother Anthony knew quite well that it would be fruitless to try and reason with Brother Timothy when the latter was bent on playing one of his mad pranks, so he made no reply but obeyed in silence. Driving the ass before him, he arrived safely with the wallets at the convent and left his comrade to his fate. Presently Farmer Gilbert came forth from the wood laden with faggots and stood aghast to see the ponderous body of the friar fastened to the tree where he had left his ass. Dropping his load of wood, he stood open-mouthed and trembling and then hastily crossed himself, for he thought that this was the work of the Evil One. "Be not amazed," quoth Brother Timothy, "that where you left an ass you should find a poor, half-starved Franciscan friar. Set me free and you shall hear my piteous story." With shaking fingers the farmer unloosed the rope, and the monk continued: "Although I wear the garb of a holy friar, I am a sinful man. You imagine you have owned an ass, but it was myself, transformed into this shape for the deadly sin of gluttony, and condemned to do penance by feeding on grass and being beaten and starved by your household. Think of the miserable life I have endured, the windy shed which was my home, and the damp and musty straw which formed my bed; my scanty food was given me grudgingly and I have patiently endured toil and blows. But to-day my penance is at an end and I begin life as a monk again." [Illustration] Simple Farmer Gilbert was conscience-stricken at hearing such words as these, and, falling on his knees before the friar, implored his pardon. The deceitful monk, rejoiced to think that his tale had been so readily believed, generously forgave the farmer for his past conduct, and even consented to be his guest for the night as it was getting late and he stood in need of rest. The farmer led his guest to his humble white-washed cottage, which stood on a hillside covered with fruitful olive trees. Drawing near, they found the farmer's wife, comely Dame Cicely, his children, and his old father waiting the return of the master of the house, and, when the monk's wonderful tale was told anew, they were no less penitent and amazed than the farmer himself had been. Deeply they grieved over the harsh treatment the holy man had endured at their hands, and, poor as they were, set about forthwith to prepare a grand supper to satisfy Brother Timothy's hunger after such a long and rigid fast. The good wife killed her last two fowls, and made them into a salad; then she brought out her best wine and begged her honored guest to fall to. Brother Timothy played his part well. He ate and drank as though he had been starving for a twelve-month, and, all the while, he talked and laughed without stopping and wagged his red beard, till at length the farmer grew angry with his guest and ventured to reprove him in good round terms.