its level of sobriety, and he was apt to make frivolous speeches
unbecoming a monk.

[Illustration: THE PRINCE RUNS AWAY.]

The abbot gave him a reproving glance, and the brother, who was the
leach of the convent, came forward. "Let me look at the miracle, most
holy abbot," said he. He took up Peter's sister, and looked carefully
at the small, twisted ankle. "I think I can cure this with my herbs
and simples," said he.

"But I don't know," said the abbot doubtfully. "I never heard of
curing a miracle."

"If it is not lawful, my humble power will not suffice to cure it,"
said the father who was the leach.

"True," said the abbot; "take her, then, and exercise thy healing art
upon her, and we will go on with our Christmas devotions, for which we
should now feel all the more zeal." So the father took away Peter's
little sister, who was still too frightened to speak.

The Christmas Monk was a wonderful doctor, for by Christmas Eve the
little girl was completely cured of her lameness. This may seem
incredible, but it was owing in great part to the herbs and simples,
which are of a species that our doctors have no knowledge of; and also
to a wonderful lotion which has never been advertised on our fences.

Peter of course heard the talk about the miracle, and knew at once
what it meant. He was almost heartbroken to think he was deceiving the