Her one and only possession was an apple-tree, and even this caused her more pain than pleasure. When the apples were ripe, the village urchins came and stole them off the tree.
This went on year after year, when one day an old man, with a long white beard, knocked at Misery’s door. “Old woman,” he begged, “give me a crust of bread.”
“You, too, are a poor miserable creature,” said Misery, who, although she had nothing herself, was full of compassion for others. “Here is half a loaf, take it; it is all I have, eat it in peace, and may it refresh you.”
“As you have been so kind,” said the old fellow, “I will grant you a wish.”
“Oh!” sighed the old woman, “I have only one desire, that is, that any one who touches my apple-tree may stick to it until I set them free. The way my apples are stolen from me is past all bearing.”
“Your wish is granted,” said the old fellow, and he went away.
THE VILLAGE URCHINS CAME AND STOLE THEM OFF THE TREE
