THE SHADOWS. 217
And the shadow-hand caressed the shadow-tip of the shadow-nose, before the shadow-tongue resumed.
" The old miser saw me: he would not taste the gruel that night, although his nurse coaxed and scolded till they were both weary. She pretended to taste it herself, and to think it very good; but at last retired into a corner, and after making as if she were eating it, took good care to pour it all out into the ashes."
" But she must either succeed, or starve him, at last," interposed a Shadow.
"I will tell you."
"And,"interposed another, "he was not worth saving."
" He might repent," suggested a third, who was more benevolent.
"No chance of that," returned the former. 11 Misers never do. The love of money has less