When a sufficient number of semi-divinities was gathered together, the President addressed the meeting at considerable length, striving to impress upon the clergymen and other philanthropists present that charity was a virtue, and appealing to the Bible, the Koran, and even the Vedas, for confirmation of his proposition.  Early in his speech the sliding door that separated the cattle-pen from the kitchen proper had to be closed, because the jostling crowd jabbered so much and inconsiderate infants squalled, and there did not seem to be any general desire to hear the President’s ethical views.  They were a low material lot, who thought only of their bellies, and did but chatter the louder when the speech was shut out.  They had overflowed their barriers by this time, and were surging cruelly to and fro, and Esther had to keep her elbows close to her sides lest her arms should be dislocated.  Outside the stable doors a shifting array of boys and girls hovered hungrily and curiously.  When the President had finished, the Rabbinate was invited to address the philanthropists, which it did at not less length, eloquently seconding the proposition that charity was a virtue.  Then the door was slid back, and the first two paupers were admitted, the rest of the crowd being courageously kept at bay by the superintendent.  The head cook filled a couple of plates with soup, dipping a great pewter pot into the cauldron.  The Rabbinate then uplifted its eyes heavenwards, and said the grace: 

“Blessed art Thou, O Lord, King of the Universe, according to whose word all things exist.”

It then tasted a spoonful of the soup, as did also the President and several of the visitors, the passage of the fluid along the palate invariably evoking approving ecstatic smiles; and indeed, there was more body in it this opening night than there would be later, when, in due course, the bulk of the meat would take its legitimate place among the pickings of office.  The sight of the delighted deglutition of the semi-divine persons made Esther’s mouth water as she struggled for breathing space on the outskirts of Paradise.  The impatience which fretted her was almost allayed by visions of stout-hearted Solomon and gentle Rachel and whimpering little Sarah and I key, all gulping down the delicious draught.  Even the more stoical father and grandmother were a little in her thoughts.  The Ansells had eaten nothing but a slice of dry bread each in the morning.  Here before her, in the land of Goshen, flowing with soup, was piled up a heap of halves of loaves, while endless other loaves were ranged along the shelves as for a giant’s table.  Esther looked ravenously at the four-square tower built of edible bricks, shivering as the biting air sought out her back through a sudden interstice in the heaving mass.  The draught reminded her more keenly of her little ones huddled together in the fireless garret at home.  Ah! what a happy night was in store.  She must not let them devour the two loaves to-night;