He often wished, for the look of the thing, that people would sometimes burn candles at his shrine; but as they had forgotten who he was it was not considered a profitable speculation to pay him that attention.

“Candles would be more orthodox,” said the Goblin.

“More orthodox, certainly,” agreed the Saint, “and the mice could have the ends to eat; candle-ends are most fattening.”

The Goblin was too well bred to wink; besides, being a stone goblin, it was out of the question.

“Well, if it ain’t there, sure enough!” said the vergeress next morning. She took the shining coin down from the dusty niche and turned it over and over in her grimy hands. Then she put it to her mouth and bit it.

“She can’t be going to eat it,” thought the Saint, and fixed her with his stoniest stare.

“Well,” said the woman, in a somewhat shriller key, “who’d have thought it! A saint, too!”