"I cannot say less. No relation you are to me. Hope I do that right
enough are your four. Recite them to me, old woman."

"I ate rats to provide a Beybile to the Respected," the woman trembled.
"I--"

"You are pathetic," Towy said. "Hie and get your tokens and have that
poor one will I because of my pity for you."

The woman told her deeds in Heaven's Record Office, and she was given
four white tablets on which her deeds were inscribed; and the rat tablet
Towy took from her. "Faith and hope are tidy heifers," he said, "but a
stallion is charity. Priceless Beybile I give you, sinner."

As he moved away Towy cried in the manner of one selling by auction:
"This is the beloved Beybile of Jesus. This is the book of hymns--old
and new notations. Hymns harvest, communion, funerals, Sunday schools,
and hymns for children bach are here. Treasures bulky for certain."

For some he received three tablets each, for some five tablets each, and
for some ten tablets each. But the gaudy Bible which was decorated with
pictures and ornamented with brass clasps and a leather covering he did
not sell; nor did he sell the gilt-edged hymn-book. Between the leaves
of his Bible he put his tablets--as a preacher his markers--the writing
on each tablet confirming a verse in the place it was set. His labor
over, he chanted: "Pen Calvaria! Pen Calvaria! Very soon will come to
view." Men and women gazed upon him, envying him; and those who had
Bibles and hymn-books hastened to do as he had done.