Help came now and then, but not enough to supply all the needy ones, and the sisters often went hungry. They sought counsel of the father of the house, Abbé le Pailleur. After prayer and meditation, he proposed to the sisters that for the love of God they themselves should become beggars. Most cheerfully they went forth with baskets on their arms, asking charity, "the crumbs that fell from the rich man's table." From that day they have provided in this way for their destitute ones; nothing comes amiss, the refuse of the table or the wardrobe is accepted thankfully. These mendicant sisters have never been without their share of contumely and reproach. Members of older orders in the beginning turned the cold shoulder upon them, and they were spurned from the presence of one _religieuse_ with the reproach, "Don't speak to me, I am ashamed of your basket!" but they only renewed their entire consecration to God, and went on begging. At length their basement was crowded to suffocation; the abbé sold his gold watch, and with the remains of Fanchion's property, and all their savings, they made the first payments for a large house; before the end of the year, the twenty-two thousand francs (the price of the house) were all paid. Here they took that name so redolent of sweetness and humility, "Little Sisters of the Poor," and here they accepted fully what before had been necessarily imperfect, their rule of life, taking, in addition to the usual vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, the vow of hospitality. At the end of two years, fifty aged people were fed and clothed by the begging sisters, and comforted and cared for with all the assiduity of the most tender love. Their rule was to divide all the broken victuals among the poor, and feed themselves upon what remained, never murmuring if they went without. One winter's night, when the old people, fed and cared for, had gone to their rest, the sisters had for their suppers only about a quarter of a pound of bread. They sat down cheerfully at the table, said their Benedicite, and passed the bread from one to the other, each declining any right to it, and all pretending to be well able to do without it. Before it had been decided how the loaf should be divided, the bell rang; some one had sent them a supply of meat and bread. "Trust in the Lord and do good, and verily thou shalt be fed," was the motto of their holy lives. It will not surprise us to learn that, in return for their self-sacrifice, Almighty God gave them many souls from among the abandoned and often dissolute people, who, but for the peaceful refuge of their home, would have been lost in the whirlpool of ignorance and vice. To bring back these poor creatures to their forgotten Father was the delight of the zealous sisters, and they felt themselves well rewarded when they saw these darkened minds opening to the truth, and returning to sit at the feet of Jesus with loving penitence.