By Bob Dvorak, of course.

Entering a remote inn on a cold and rainy night, I was stopped by a small man who told me he was sick, tired, and broke, and would I provide him with enough for a warm indoors room for the night?

Feeling sorry for him and having not yet exhausted my monthly tithe for charitable works, I bought him a room at the inn.

As we headed upstairs, he told me he was really a leprechaun, but a bad one, and that he had already used up the gold. What he had left was a magic talking cloth which would give good advice when asked.

He gave it to me and told me to use it wisely.

We parted ways. I got up to my room and it had two beds. I asked the cloth in which bed should I sleep — it told me to take the one away from the window.

In the middle of the night, the wind rose and a tree limb crashed through the window onto the other bed. What a miraculous instrument the fellow had given me!

The next morning I resumed my journey. And when I came to a fork in the road, I asked my newfound companion which way I should go.

“I can’t tell you now,” came the reply. “I’m a night towel.”