’Haveyoueverreadtheoldprophecyonthelibrarywindow？’
’Oh，often，’criedthelittlegirl，lookingup;’Iknowitquitewell。Itispaintedincuriousblackletters，anditisdifficulttoread。Thereareonlysixlines：
WhenagoldengirlcanwinPrayerfromoutthelipsofsin，Whenthebarrenalmondbears，Andalittlechildgivesawayitstears，ThenshallallthehousebestillAndpeacecometoCanterville。
ButIdon’tknowwhattheymean。’
’Theymean，’hesaidsadly，’thatyoumustweepformeformysins，becauseIhavenotears，andpraywithmeformysoul，becauseI