Now, Saint Nicholas had had a long walk of it that day, so that he was quite covered with dust, and looked no better than he should. Therefore he seemed to be only a common beggar; and when the rich brother heard him ask for a night’s lodging at his fine, great house, he gaped like a toad in a rain-storm. What! Did the traveller think that he kept a free lodging-house for beggars? If he did he was bringing his grist to the wrong mill; there was no place for the likes of him in the house, and that was the truth. But yonder was a poor man’s house across the street, if he went over there perhaps he could get a night’s lodging and a crust of bread. That was what the rich brother said, and after he had said it he banged to the door, and left Saint Nicholas standing on the outside under the blessed sky. So now there was nothing for good Saint Nicholas to do but to go across the street to the poor brother’s house, as the other had told him to do. Rap! tap! tap! he knocked at the door, and it was the poor brother who came and opened it for him. “Come in, come in!” says he, “come in and welcome!” So in came Saint Nicholas, and sat himself down behind the stove where it was good and warm, while the poor man’s wife spread before him all that they had in the house—a loaf of brown bread and a crock of cold water from the town fountain. “And is that all that you have to eat?” said Saint Nicholas. Yes; that was all that they had. “Then, maybe, I can help you to better,” said Saint Nicholas. “So bring me hither a bowl and a crock.” You may guess that the poor man’s wife was not long in fetching what he wanted. When they were brought the saint blessed the one and passed his hand over the other. Then he said, “Bowl be filled!” and straightway the bowl began to boil up with a good rich meat pottage until it was full to the brim. Then the saint said, “Bowl be stilled!” and it stopped making the broth, and there stood as good a feast as man could wish for. Then Saint Nicholas said, “Crock be filled!” and the crock began to bubble up with the best of beer. Then he said, “Crock be stilled!” and there stood as good drink as man ever poured down his throat. Down they all sat, the saint and the poor man and the poor man’s wife, and ate and drank till they could eat and drink no more, and whenever the bowl and the crock grew empty, the one and the other became filled at the bidding. [Illustration: Saint Nicholas knocks at the rich man’s door but finds only a chill welcome & cold faring.] The next morning the saint trudged off the way he was going, but he left behind him the bowl and the crock, so that there was no danger of hunger and thirst coming to that house. Well, the world jogged along for a while, maybe a month or two, and life was as easy for the poor man and his wife as an old shoe. One day the rich brother said to _his_ wife. “See now, Luck seems to be stroking our brother over yonder the right way; I’ll just go and see what it all means.”