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Page 15
The woman gave a great sob. Her little lad had been a choir boy,--perhaps
these were his one-time comrades. The second verse of the carol rang out
sweetly:--
"Holy night! Peaceful night!
Only for shepherds' sight
Came blest visions of angel throngs,
With their loud Hallelujah songs,
Saying, Jesus is come!"
Suddenly it seemed to the distracted mother that her own boy's voice
blended with those others. He too was singing in honor of that Child. Happy
and ever young, he was bidding her rejoice in the day which made all
childhood sacred. And for his sake she had been hating children!
With a sudden revulsion of feeling she turned to see what had become of the
poor mother and her boys. They were not far behind, huddling in the shadow.
The black woman strode quickly up to them. They shrank pitifully at her
approach, and she felt the shame of it. They were afraid of her!
"Here," she said, thrusting the Noah's ark into the hands of the larger
boy. "Take it. It belongs to you."
The child took it timidly. The mother began to protest thanks. Trying to
control the shake in her voice the dark lady spoke again. "Have you
prepared a Christmas for your children?"
The woman shook her head. "I have nothing," she sighed. "A roof over our
heads, that's all."
"Your husband?"
"My man died a month ago."
So other folk had raw sorrows, too. The mourner had forgotten that.
"There is no one expecting you at home?" Again the woman shook her head
dolefully. "Come with me," said the dark lady impulsively. "You shall be my
guests to-night. And to-morrow I will make a Christmas for the children.
The house shall put off its shadow. I too will light candles. I have
toys,"--her voice broke,--"and clothing; many things, which are being
wasted. That is not right! Something led you to me, or me to you;
something,--perhaps it was an Angel,--whoever dropped that Noah's ark in
the street. An Angel might do that, I believe. Come with me."
The woman and her sons followed her, rejoicing greatly in the midst of
their wonder.
* * * * *
There were tears in the eyes through which Miss Terry saw once more the
Christmas Angel. She wiped them hastily. But still the Angel seemed to
shine with a fairer radiance.
"You see!" was all he said. And Miss Terry bowed her head. She began to
understand.
CHAPTER XI
MIRANDA AGAIN
Once more, on the wings of vision, Miss Terry was out in the snowy street.
She was following the fleet steps of a little girl who carried a
white-paper package under her arm. Miss Terry knew that she was learning
the fate of her old doll, Miranda, whom her own hands had thrust out into a
cold world.
Poor Miranda! After all these years to become the property of a thief! Mary
was the little thief's name. Hugging the tempting package close, Mary ran
and ran until she was out of breath. Her one thought was to get as far as
possible from the place where the bundle had lain. For she suspected that
the steps where she had found it led up to the doll's home. That was why in
her own eyes also she was a little thief. But now she had run so far and
had turned so many corners that she could not find her way back if she
would. There was triumph in the thought. Mary chuckled to herself as she
stopped running and began to walk leisurely in the neighborhood with which
she was more familiar.
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