As he came up he heard a child crying, and
lo! on the doorstep sat a dirty little maid of some four summers,
sobbing away for dear life.
Hilarius approached diffidently, and stooped down to wipe away the
grimy tears.
The child regarded him, round eyes, open mouth; then with a shrill
cry of joy, she held out her thin arms.
At the sound of her cry the door opened; on the threshold stood a
woman still young but haggard and weary-eyed; at her breast was a
little babe. She stared at Hilarius, and then pulling the child to
her in the doorway, waved him away.
"Stand off, fool!--'tis the Plague."
Hilarius shrank back.
"And thy neighbours?" he asked.
"Nay, they were light-footed eno' when they saw what was to do, and
left us three to die like rats in a hole." Then eagerly: "Hast
thou any bread?"
He shook his head.
"Nay, I came here seeking some. Art thou hungry?"
She threw out her hands.
"'Tis two days sin' I had bite or sup."
"Where lies the nearest village? and how far?"
"A matter of an hour, over yonder.
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