Urge, the sheep-dog, rushed the sheep out of the sedge and hurried them after his master, and in an hour Joseph was once more settled, his sheep were once more nosing over the rocky slants of a hill, his dog once more flat on his belly, watching.

But it was a different day, after all.
The hut of the fagot-maker was the four walls and a roof and the earth that floored it, but it was wealth because it was shelter.

It had two doors which were merely openings in the sides and between them lay the man on sheep-pelts with a cotton abas, which one of the Galileans had left, over him.

At one of these doors, sitting sidewise, so that he could watch in or out, sat Joseph.
All night the man on the sheepskins spoke to the blackened thatch above him of the siege of Jerusalem and the treachery of Julian of Ephesus.

He read letters from Costobarus and instructed Aquila over and over again.