Page:Folk-lore of the Holy Land.djvu/263

Mar Bûtrus opened the door at once and bade her welcome, assigning to her a place among the heavenly choirs. Here she was secure at last, and for ever, from her aversion, the Patriarch.

Suddenly, three great knocks at heaven’s gate startled the happy songsters. Mar Bûtrus jumped up and ran to the window to see who it was. He gave one look and then, in wild excitement, sent attendants hurrying in all directions. Presently regiments of cherubs and seraphs marched down to the gate and formed up on either side of the street leading from it. Two of the archangels came and stood by while Mar Bûtrus, with unusual ceremony, slipped back the bolt. All the blessed stood agog to see who it was that had deserved this grand reception. To Hannah’s chagrin and dismay, it was the patriarch. He strode in amid loud acclamations, and his eyes meeting hers for a twinkling- space, she could see that he was still at his tricks. He was led up to a high seat near the throne, while his old nurse burst into a flood of tears.

Now, tears are not allowed in heaven. When, therefore, the other saints beheld her weeping, they thought she was one of the damned who had got in by mistake, and drew away from her. She was thus left quite alone in a circle of the blessed, all huddled together like scared sheep and neglecting their parts in the heavenly choir. Mar Bûtrus noticed the interruption, and came to see what was the matter. Seeing a saint in tears, he said severely, “Who are you?” “Your servant, Hannah,” was the reply, and he looked up the name in his