and more to strangers, and less and less of him remained to his mother.
There remained to her the memory that she had borne him in pain, that
she had nourished him with her life; she had a claim on him more sacred
and everlasting than any other could have. But gradually and
inevitably he separated himself from his mother, and what she would do
for him, and give him, and be to him, he kindly but decidedly set
aside. She must even give him her prayerful blessing in secret; she
hardly dared to touch his head with her trembling hands.

Next day at noon a royal litter stood before the hut. Two slaves were
the bearers, one of whom was old and feeble. When Mary saw the litter
she exclaimed that she would not allow her child to lie on so soft a
couch. The boy smiled a little, so that two dimples appeared on his
rosy cheeks, and said:

"Why, mother, do you think I would ride on those cushions? Now, let
the sick slave get in, and I will take his place."

But the leader of the little procession was not agreeable. The boy
could do as he liked, stay, or go with them.

"I shall stay," said Jesus, "and go to Pharaoh when I please." The
litter returned empty to the palace.

The next day the boy made up his mind to go. His parents accompanied
him through the palm-grove to the town. He walked between father and
mother in his humble garb, and Joseph gave him good advice the while.
Mary was silent and invoked the heavenly powers to protect her child.
Only the boy was admitted through the gateway of the palace; father and
mother remained behind and looked fearfully after their Jesus, who