“There are but two more:  try all; see if one at least can be found not wholly selfish; and, as you are not truly in need of their bounties, you can well afford to importune and be denied.”  He then guided his children to the end of the street.

“This one looks quite gay compared with the others,” said the eldest of the daughters, as they all looked on the well-lit rooms, and beheld forms flitting to and fro within.

“We shall certainly be admitted here,” said the others.

But the parent kept his council, and was invisible while they rapped at the door, which was opened by a bright and rather stylish-looking girl, who gazed wonderingly on the group.

“Can you give us shelter for a night, and a little food?” asked the eldest.

“Not we, indeed:  we have just spent all our money for a merry-making for our brother Jack, who has just come home from sea.  Not we:  we have not one bit of room to spare; for all our friends are here.”

“But we are weary, and ask rest and food,” pleaded one of the three; and her eyes wandered to the well-filled tables.

“Yes:  but what we have is for our company and ourselves—­not for beggars,” said the girl, and she closed the door upon them.

“Shall we try again, father?” they said to their parent.

“Just this one, which is the last,” he answered, leading them to the door of a cot where dwelt a poor and lonely widow.

They paused at the threshold, for a voice was heard within, low and sweet; yet they heard the words of the kneeling form, in deep petition, saying, “Give me, O Father, my daily bread; forgive me my trespasses, and lead me not into temptation.  For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever and forever.  Amen.”

She arose at that instant.  A gentle knock was heard.  Without delay she opened it, and smiled upon the strangers, who asked for more than she could give.

“I have shelter, but no food; yet enter and be welcome,” she said, and opened wide the door.

They passed in, and left their parent, whom they knew would soon follow, outside.

“I grieve that I have no food to offer thee,” said the woman, “but come to my fireside; for the evening air is chilly, and you must need rest.”

She placed for them her only chairs beside the fire, saying, “I am glad you come to-night; for this is my last fuel, and to-morrow eve it will be all dark and chill within my dwelling.”

The eldest bowed to the woman gracefully, and threw aside her cloak; and at once the others followed her example.

Great was the surprise of the widow.  She thought her senses had departed, and, for an instant, had no voice, no words, naught but wonder beaming from her eyes, so sudden and great was the surprise.  Another gentle rap at that instant seemed to help her to find herself, and she was hastening to open it, when the eldest one said, “It is our father, come to thank you for admitting angels in disguise; for, though not angels in form, we hope to prove such by our administration to your needs.”  And they laid upon her only table the purses of gold.