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Once upon a time there lived alone in a lodging near St. Ives a young man. 'Twas at the time when the debate was running high 'twixt the monks and the ministers whether 'twere better to say: "Blessed are they that have dined well," or, "Blessed are they that laugh." The young man took but scant interest in these theological discussions, and devoted his attention to the maid, who was a fine enough young thing, though somewhat green. He would talk with her cooly and discreetly, and one day said:

"Thou art from the country, little friend?"

"Truly, sir."

"I was assured of it and shall love thee none the less: thou art a good girl and a good housekeeper."

"I thank thee kindly, sir."

"Well, little friend, since I love thee so much, and that thou mayst serve us well, I must e'en tell thee, for thine own good profit, of a certain ill that befalleth country maids when they come to dwell in the town; 'tis that small eggs do grow in their