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Page 14
"Oh, rot!" protested Bob faintly. "Had to do it; my fault anyway; Christmas
Eve,--couldn't see a kid hurt on Christmas Eve."
He called the attendant and asked for the pocket-book which had been in his
coat at the time of the accident. Putting it into the woman's hand, he
said, "Good-by. Get Johnnie something really jolly for Christmas. I'm
afraid the dog is about all in. Get him a new one."
But Johnnie refused to have a new dog. It was the poor, shapeless Flanton
animal which remained the darling of his heart for many a moon.
* * * * *
All this of past and future Miss Terry knew through the Angel's power. When
once more the library lightened, and she saw the pink figure smiling at her
from the mantel, she spoke of her own accord.
"It was my fault, because I put the dog in the way. I caused all that
trouble."
"Trouble?" said the Angel, puzzled. "Do you call it _trouble?_ Do you not
see what it has done for that heartless youth? It brought his good moment.
Perhaps he will be a different man after this. And as for the child; he was
made happy by something that would otherwise have been wasted, and he has
gained a friend who will not forget him. Trouble! And do you think _you_
did it?" He laughed knowingly.
"I certainly did," said Miss Terry firmly.
"But it was I, yes _I_, the Christmas Spirit, who put it into your head to
do what you did. You may not believe it, but so it was. You too, even you,
Angelina, could not quite escape the influence of the Christmas Spirit, and
so these things have happened. But now let us see what became of the third
experiment."
CHAPTER X
NOAH AGAIN
In the street of candles a woman dressed all in black had picked up the
poor old Noah's ark and was looking at it wildly. She was a widow who had
just lost her only child, a little son, and she was in a state of morbid
bitterness bordering on distraction.
When the second woman with the two little ones came up and begged for the
toy, something hard and sullen and cruel rose in the widow's heart, and she
refused angrily to give up the thing. She hated those two boys who had been
spared when her own was taken. She would not make them happy.
"No, you shall not have it," she cried, clutching the Noah's ark fiercely.
"I will destroy it."
The poor woman and the children followed her wistfully. The little boys
were crying. They were cold and hungry and disappointed. They had come so
near to something pleasant. They had almost been lucky; but the luck had
passed over their heads to another.
The woman in mourning strode on rapidly, the thoughts within her no less
black than the garments which she wore. She hated the world; she hated the
people who lived in it. She hated Christmas time, when every one seemed
merry except herself. And yes, yes! Most of all she hated children. She
clenched her teeth wickedly; her mind reeled.
Suddenly, somewhere, a chorus of happy voices began to sing the words of an
old carol:--
"Holy night! Peaceful night!
All is dark save the light,
Yonder where they sweet vigil keep,
O'er the Babe who in silent sleep
Rests in heavenly peace."
Softly and sweetly the childish voices ascended from the street. The woman
in black stopped short, breathing hard. She saw the band of choristers
standing in a group on the sidewalk and in the snow, their hats pulled down
over their eyes, their collars turned up around their ears, their hands
deep in pockets. In their midst rose the tall wooden cross carried by a
little fellow with yellow hair. They sang as simply and as heartily as a
flock of birds out in the snow.
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