The hut was small and bare. In one corner was a cupboard where the
Hermit kept his scanty supply of food and the medicines which he
distilled. Against the wall was a bench, beside a table made of a
tree-stump, and on the table lay a great black book. Opposite the bed
was the Cross of wood fastened to the wall, and below it the good
Hermit knelt with bowed head. Gigi wondered what he was doing. He
himself knew no prayers.

Gigi's eyes wandered to the door, which stood open. On the sill the
cat and her kittens were playing. Outside he could catch a glimpse of
various animals frisking about the dooryard. Birds sang merrily in the
trees overhead and in the bushes just outside the window. The raven
hopped into the doorway and stood looking saucily at Gigi, with head on
one side. It was all so peaceful, so quiet, so different from anything
which Gigi had known, that he thought it must be a dream. He sighed
again, and turned over, stretching out his arm. In doing so he touched
the hairy neck of Brutus, who was still sleeping by his bed. Instantly
the dog sprang up and began to lick the boy's face. At the same
moment, with a pious gesture, the Hermit also rose and came toward the
cot, smiling kindly.

"You are better, my son?" he asked, laying a cool hand upon Gigi's
forehead. "Ah, yes! You will soon be quite yourself."

Gigi stared up at him contentedly. "Who are you?" he asked. He had
never been taught manners, and he could no longer hide his curiosity.

"I am a Hermit," answered the old man. "I live here alone with my
animals, as you see. I pass the days in prayer and meditation,