diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15709-8.txt | 2398 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15709-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 42205 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15709-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 586832 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15709-h/15709-h.htm | 2554 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15709-h/images/chasl.png | bin | 0 -> 7111 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15709-h/images/chisl.png | bin | 0 -> 7124 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15709-h/images/chmsl.png | bin | 0 -> 9417 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15709-h/images/chnsl.png | bin | 0 -> 7575 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15709-h/images/chosl.png | bin | 0 -> 7254 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15709-h/images/chssl.png | bin | 0 -> 7348 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15709-h/images/chtsl.png | bin | 0 -> 7350 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15709-h/images/chwsl.png | bin | 0 -> 7250 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15709-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 0 -> 53195 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15709-h/images/ill01.jpg | bin | 0 -> 57498 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15709-h/images/ill02.jpg | bin | 0 -> 69525 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15709-h/images/ill03.jpg | bin | 0 -> 80517 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15709-h/images/ill04.jpg | bin | 0 -> 70938 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15709-h/images/ill05.jpg | bin | 0 -> 60601 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15709-h/images/ill06.jpg | bin | 0 -> 70684 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15709-h/images/logo.png | bin | 0 -> 7155 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15709-h/images/playbox.png | bin | 0 -> 10176 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15709.txt | 2398 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 15709.zip | bin | 0 -> 42181 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
26 files changed, 7366 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/15709-8.txt b/15709-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..246d634 --- /dev/null +++ b/15709-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2398 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Christmas Angel, by Abbie Farwell Brown + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Christmas Angel + +Author: Abbie Farwell Brown + +Release Date: April 25, 2005 [EBook #15709] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Elaine Walker and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +By Abbie Farwell Brown + + * * * * * + +THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL. Illustrated. Square 12mo, 60 cents, _net_. +Postage extra. + +JOHN OF THE WOODS. Illustrated. Square 12mo, $1.25. + +FRESH POSIES. Illustrated. Square 8vo, $1.50. + +FRIENDS AND COUSINS. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.00. + +BROTHERS AND SISTERS. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.00. + +THE STAR JEWELS AND OTHER WONDERS. Illustrated. Square 12mo, $1.00. + +THE FLOWER PRINCESS. Illustrated. Sq. 12mo, $1.00. + +THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS. Illustrated. Square 12mo, $1.10, _net_. +Postpaid, $1.21. + +A POCKETFUL OF POSIES. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.00, _net_. Postpaid, $1.09. + +IN THE DAYS OF GIANTS. Illustrated, 12mo, $1.10, _net_. Postpaid, $1.21. +_School edition_, 50 cents, _net_, postpaid. + +THE BOOK OF SAINTS AND FRIENDLY BEASTS. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.25. +_School Edition_, 50 cents, _net_, postpaid. + +THE LONESOMEST DOLL. Illustrated. Sq. 12mo, 85 cents, _net_. +Postpaid, 95 cents. + +HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY +BOSTON AND NEW YORK + + + + +THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL + +[Illustration: YOU HANG IT ON THE TREE, ANGELINA (page 26)] + +THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL + +BY + +ABBIE FARWELL BROWN + +WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY +REGINALD BIRCH + +BOSTON AND NEW YORK + +HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY + +The Riverside Press Cambridge + +_Published October 1910_ + +SECOND IMPRESSION + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I. THE PLAY BOX 1 + + II. JACK-IN-THE-BOX 8 + + III. THE FLANTON DOG 12 + + IV. NOAH'S ARK 15 + + V. MIRANDA 20 + + VI. THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL 25 + + VII. BEFORE THE FIRE 32 + +VIII. JACK AGAIN 37 + + IX. THE DOG AGAIN 44 + + X. NOAH AGAIN 49 + + XI. MIRANDA AGAIN 53 + + XII. THE ANGEL AGAIN 62 + +XIII. THE CHRISTMAS CANDLE 68 + + XIV. TOM 73 + + XV. CHRISTMAS DAY 76 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + +YOU HANG IT ON THE TREE, ANGELINA (page 26) _Frontispiece_ + +SHE LOOKED UP AND DOWN THE STREET 22 + +_PING!_ OUT SPRANG THE JACK-IN-THE-BOX 42 + +BOB COOPER SAVES THE BABY 46 + +HE GRASPED A RAILING TO STEADY HIMSELF 64 + +MARY RETURNS THE DOLL 78 + +_From drawings by Reginald Birch_ + + + + +THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE PLAY BOX + + +At the sound of footsteps along the hall Miss Terry looked up from the +letter which she was reading for the sixth time. "Of course I would not see +him," she said, pursing her lips into a hard line. "Certainly not!" + +A bump on the library door, as from an opposing knee, did duty for a knock. + +"Bring the box in here, Norah," said Miss Terry, holding open the door for +her servant, who was gasping under the weight of a packing-case. "Set it +down on the rug by the fire-place. I am going to look it over and burn up +the rubbish this evening." + +She glanced once more at the letter in her hand, then with a sniff tossed +it upon the fire. + +"Yes'm," said Norah, as she set down the box with a thump. She stooped once +more to pick up something which had fallen out when the cover was jarred +open. It was a pink papier-mâché angel, such as are often hung from the top +of Christmas trees as a crowning symbol. Norah stood holding it between +thumb and finger, staring amazedly. Who would think to find such a bit of +frivolity in the house of Miss Terry! + +Her mistress looked up from the fire, where the bit of writing was writhing +painfully, and caught the expression of Norah's face. + +"What have you there?" she asked, frowning, as she took the object into her +own hands. "The Christmas Angel!" she exclaimed under her breath. "I had +quite forgotten it." Then as if it burned her fingers she thrust the little +image back into the box and turned to Norah brusquely. "There, that's all. +You can go now, Norah," she said. + +"Yes'm," answered the maid. She hesitated. "If you please'm, it's Christmas +Eve." + +"Well, I believe so," snapped Miss Terry, who seemed to be in a +particularly bad humor this evening. "What do you want?" + +Norah flushed; but she was hardened to her mistress's manner. "Only to ask +if I may go out for a little while to see the decorations and hear the +singing." + +"Decorations? Singing? Fiddlestick!" retorted Miss Terry, poker in hand. +"What decorations? What singing?" + +"Why, all the windows along the street are full of candles," answered +Norah; "rows of candles in every house, to light the Christ Child on his +way when he comes through the city to-night." + +"Fiddlestick!" again snarled her mistress. + +"And choir-boys are going about the streets, they say, singing carols in +front of the lighted houses," continued Norah enthusiastically. "It must +sound so pretty!" + +"They had much better be at home in bed. I believe people are losing their +minds!" + +"Please'm, may I go?" asked Norah again. + +Norah had no puritanic traditions to her account. Moreover she was young +and warm and enthusiastic. Sometimes the spell of Miss Terry's sombre house +threatened her to the point of desperation. It was so this Christmas Eve; +but she made her request with apparent calmness. + +"Yes, go along," assented her mistress ungraciously. + +"Thank you, 'm," said the servant demurely, but with a brightening of her +blue eyes. And presently the area door banged behind her quick-retreating +footsteps. + +"H'm! Didn't take her long to get ready!" muttered Miss Terry, giving the +fire a vicious poke. She was alone in the house, on Christmas Eve, and not +a man, woman, or child in the world cared. Well, it was what she wanted. It +was of her own doing. If she had wished-- + +She sat back in her chair, with thin, long hands lying along the arms of +it, gazing into the fire. A bit of paper there was crumbling into ashes. +Alone on Christmas Eve! Even Norah had some relation with the world +outside. Was there not a stalwart officer waiting for her on the nearest +corner? Even Norah could feel a simple childish pleasure in candles and +carols and merriment, and the old, old superstition. + +"Stuff and nonsense!" mused Miss Terry scornfully. "What is our Christmas, +anyway? A time for shopkeepers to sell and for foolish folks to kill +themselves in buying. Christmas spirit? No! It is all humbug,--all +selfishness, and worry; an unwholesome season of unnatural activities. I am +glad I am out of it. I am glad no one expects anything of me,--nor I of any +one. I am quite independent; blessedly independent of the whole foolish +business. It is a good time to begin clearing up for the new year. I'm glad +I thought of it. I've long threatened to get rid of the stuff that has +been accumulating in that corner of the attic. Now I will begin." + +She tugged the packing-case an inch nearer the fire. It was like Miss Terry +to insist upon that nearer inch. Then she raised the cover. It was a box +full of children's battered toys, old-fashioned and quaint; the toys in +vogue thirty--forty--fifty years earlier, when Miss Terry was a child. She +gave a reminiscent sniff as she threw up the cover and saw on the under +side of it a big label of pasteboard unevenly lettered. + +[Illustration: PLAY BOX OF TOM TERRY AND ANGELINA TERRY (scrawl)] + +"Humph!" she snorted. There was a great deal in that "humph." It meant: +Yes, Tom's name had plenty of room, while poor little Angelina had to +squeeze in as well as she could. How like Tom! This accounted for +everything, even to his not being in his sister's house this very night. +How unreasonable he had been! + +Miss Terry shrugged impatiently. Why think of Tom to-night? Years ago he +had deliberately cut himself adrift from her interests. No need to think of +him now. It was too late to appease her. But here were all these toys to be +got rid of. The fire was hungry for them. Why not begin? + +Miss Terry stooped to poke over the contents of the box with lean, long +fingers. In one corner thrust up a doll's arm; in another, an animal's tail +pointed heavenward. She caught glimpses of glitter and tinsel, wheels and +fragments of unidentifiable toys. + +"What rubbish!" she said. "Yes, I'll burn them all. They are good for +nothing else. I suppose some folks would try to give them away, and bore a +lot of people to death. They seem to think they are saving something, that +way. Nonsense! I know better. It is all foolishness, this craze for giving. +Most things are better destroyed as soon as you are done with them. Why, +nobody wants such truck as this. Now, could any child ever have cared for +so silly a thing?" She pulled out a faded jumping-jack, and regarded it +scornfully. "Idiotic! Such toys are demoralizing for children--weaken their +minds. It is a shame to think how every one seems bound to spoil children, +especially at Christmas time. Well, no one can say that I have added to the +shameful waste." + +Miss Terry tossed the poor jumping-jack on the fire, and eyed his last +contortions with grim satisfaction. + +But as she watched, a quaint idea came to her. She was famous for eccentric +ideas. + +"I will try an experiment," she said. "I will prove once for all my point +about the 'Christmas spirit.' I will drop some of these old toys out on the +sidewalk and see what happens. It may be interesting." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +JACK-IN-THE-BOX + + +Miss Terry rose and crossed two rooms to the front window, looking out upon +the street. A flare of light almost blinded her eyes. Every window opposite +her along the block, as far as she could see, was illuminated with a row of +lighted candles across the sash. The soft, unusual glow threw into relief +the pretty curtains and wreaths of green, and gave glimpses of cosy +interiors and flitting happy figures. + +"What a waste of candles!" scolded Miss Terry. "Folks are growing terribly +extravagant." + +The street was white with snow which had fallen a few hours earlier, piled +in drifts along the curb of the little-traveled terrace. But the sidewalks +were neatly shoveled and swept clean, as became the eminently respectable +part of the city where Miss Terry lived. A long flight of steps, with iron +railing at the side, led down from the front door, upon which a silver +plate had for generations in decorous flourishes announced the name of +Terry. + +Miss Terry returned to the play box and drew out between thumb and finger +the topmost toy. It happened to be a wooden box, with a wire hasp for +fastening the cover. Half unconsciously she pressed the spring, and a +hideous Jack-in-the-box sprang out to confront her with a squeak, a leering +smile, and a red nose. Miss Terry eyed him with disfavor. + +"I always did hate that thing," she said. "Tom was continually frightening +me with it, I remember." As if to be rid of unwelcome memories she shut her +mouth tight, even as she shut Jack back into his box, snapping the spring +into place. "This will do to begin with," she thought. She crossed to the +window, which she opened quickly, and tossed out the box, so that it fell +squarely in the middle of the sidewalk. Then closing the window and turning +down the lights in the room behind her, Miss Terry hid in the folds of the +curtain and watched to see what would happen to Jack. + +The street was quiet. Few persons passed on either side. At last she spied +two little ragamuffins approaching. They seemed to be Jewish lads of the +newsboy class, and they eyed the display of candles appraisingly. The +smaller boy first caught sight of the box in the middle of the sidewalk. + +"Hello! Wot's dis?" he grunted, making a dash upon it. + +"Gee! Wot's up?" responded the other, who was instantly at his elbow. + +"Gwan! Lemme look at it." + +The smaller boy drew away and pressed the spring of the box eagerly. +_Ping!_ Out popped the Jack into his astonished face; whereupon he set up a +guffaw. + +"Give it here!" commanded the bigger boy. + +"Naw! You let it alone! It's mine!" asserted the other, edging away along +the curbstone. "I saw it first. You can't have it." + +"Give it here. I saw it first myself. Hand it over, or I'll smash you!" + +The bigger boy advanced threateningly. + +"I won't!" the other whimpered, clasping the box tightly under his jacket. + +He started to run, but the bigger fellow was too quick for him. He pounced +across the sidewalk, and soon the twain were struggling in the snowdrift, +pummeling one another with might and main. + +"I told you so!" commented Miss Terry from behind the curtain. "Here's the +first show of the beautiful Christmas spirit that is supposed to be abroad. +Look at the little beasts fighting over something that neither of them +really wants!" + +Just then Miss Terry spied a blue-coated figure leisurely approaching. At +the same moment an instinct seemed to warn the struggling urchins. + +"Cop!" said a muffled voice from the pile of arms and legs, and in an +instant two black shadows were flitting down the street; but not before the +bigger boy had wrenched the box from the pocket of the little chap. + +"So that is the end of experiment number one," quoth Miss Terry, smiling +grimly. "It happened just about as I expected. They will be fighting again +as soon as they are out of sight. They are Jews; but that doesn't make any +difference about the Christmas spirit. Now let's see what becomes of the +next experiment." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE FLANTON DOG + + +She returned to the play box by the fire, and rummaged for a few minutes +among the tangled toys. Then with something like a chuckle she drew out a +soft, pale creature with four wobbly legs. + +"The Flanton Dog!" she said. "Well, I vow! I had forgotten all about him. +It was Tom who coined the name for him because he was made of Canton +flannel." + +She stood the thing up on the table as well as his weak legs would allow, +and inspected him critically. He certainly was a forlorn specimen. One of +the black beads which had served him for eyes was gone. His ears, which had +originally stood up saucily on his head, now drooped in limp dejection. One +of them was a mere shapeless rag hanging by a thread. He was dirty and +discolored, and his tail was gone. But still he smiled with his red-thread +mouth and seemed trying to make the best of things. + +"What a nightmare!" said Miss Terry contemptuously. "I know there isn't a +child in the city who wants such a looking thing. Why, even the Animal +Rescue folks would give the boys a 'free shot' at that. This isn't going to +bring out any Christmas spirit," she sneered. "I will try it and see." + +Once more she lifted the window and tossed the dog to the sidewalk. He +rolled upon his back and lay pathetically with crooked legs yearning +upward, still smiling. Hardly had Miss Terry time to conceal herself behind +the curtain when she saw a figure approaching, airily waving a stick. + +"No ragamuffin this time," she said. "Hello! It is that good-for-nothing +young Cooper fellow from the next block. They say he is a millionaire. +Well, he isn't even going to see the Flanton Dog." + +The young man came swinging along, debonairly; he was whistling under his +breath. He was a dapper figure in a long coat and a silk hat, under which +the candles lighted a rather silly face. When he reached the spot in the +sidewalk where the Flanton Dog lay, he paused a moment looking down. Then +he poked the object with his stick. On the other side of the street a +mother and her little boy were passing at the time. The child's eyes caught +sight of the dog on the sidewalk, and he hung back, watching to see what +the young man would do to it. But his mother drew him after her. Just then +an automobile came panting through the snow. With a quick movement Cooper +picked up the dog on the end of his stick and tossed it into the street, +under the wheels of the machine. The baby across the street uttered a howl +of anguish at the sight. Miss Terry herself was surprised to feel a pang +shoot through her as the car passed over the queer old toy. She retreated +from the window quickly. + +"Well, that's the end of Flanton," she said with half a sigh. "I knew that +fellow was a brute. I might have expected something like that. But it +looked so--so--" She hesitated for a word, and did not finish her sentence, +but bit her lip and sniffed cynically. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE NOAH'S ARK + + +"Now, what comes next?" Miss Terry rummaged in the box until her fingers +met something odd-shaped, long, and smooth-sided. With some difficulty she +drew out the object, for it was of good size. + +"H'm! The old Noah's ark," she said. "I wonder if all the animals are in +there." + +She lifted the cover, and turned out into her lap the long-imprisoned +animals and their round-bodied chief. Mrs. Noah and her sons had long since +disappeared. But the ark-builder, hatless and one-armed, still presided +over a menagerie of sorry beasts. Scarcely one could boast of being a +quadruped. To few of them the years had spared a tail. From their close +resemblance in their misery, it was not hard to believe in the kinship of +all animal life. She took them up and examined them curiously one by one. +Finally she selected a shapeless slate-colored block from the mass. "This +was the elephant," she mused. "I remember when Tom stepped on him and +smashed his trunk. 'I guess I'm going to be an expressman when I grow up,' +he said, looking sorry. Tom was always full of his jokes. Now I'll try this +and see what happens to the ark on its last voyage." + +Just then there was a noise outside. An automobile honked past, and Miss +Terry shuddered, recalling the pathetic end of the Flanton Dog, which had +given her quite a turn. + +"I hate those horrid machines!" she exclaimed. "They seem like Juggernaut. +I'd like to forbid their going through this street." + +She crowded the elephant with Noah and the rest of his charge back into the +ark and closed the lid. "I can't throw this out of the window," she +reflected. "They would spill. I must take it out on the sidewalk. Land! The +fire's going out! That girl doesn't know how to build fires so they will +keep." + +She laid the Noah's ark on the table, and going to the closet tugged out +several big logs, which she arranged geometrically. About laying fires, as +about most other things, Miss Terry had her own positive theories. Taking +the bellows in hand she blew furiously, and was presently rewarded with a +brisk blaze. She smiled with satisfaction, and trotted upstairs to find her +red knit shawl. With this about her shoulders she was prepared to brave the +December frost. Down the steps she went, and deposited the ark discreetly +at their foot; then returned to take up her position behind the curtains. + +There were a good many people passing, but they seemed too preoccupied to +glance down at the sidewalk. They were nearly all hurrying in one +direction. Some were running in the middle of the street. + +"They are in a great hurry," sniffed Miss Terry disdainfully. "One would +think they had something really important on hand. I suppose they are going +to hear the singing. Fiddlestick!" + +A man hastened by under the window; a woman; two children, a boy and a +girl, running and gesticulating eagerly. None of them noticed the Noah's +ark lying at the foot of the steps. + +Miss Terry began to grow impatient. "Are they all blind?" she fretted. +"What is the matter with them? I wish somebody would find the thing. I am +tired of seeing it lying there." + +She tapped the floor impatiently with her slipper. Just then a woman +approached. She was dressed in the most uncompromising of mourning, and she +walked slowly, with bent head, never glancing at the lighted windows on +either side. + +"She will see it," commented Miss Terry. And sure enough, she did. She +stopped at the doorstep, drew her skirts aside, and bent over to look at +the strange-shaped box at her feet. Finally she lifted it But immediately +she shivered and acted so strangely that Miss Terry thought she was about +to break the toy in pieces on the steps or throw it into the street. +Evidently she detested the sight of it. + +Just then up came a second woman with two small boys hanging at her skirts. +They were ragged and sick-looking. There was something about the expression +of even the tiny knot of hair at the back of the woman's head which told of +anxious poverty. With envious curiosity she hurried up to see what a +luckier mortal had found, crowding to look over her shoulder. The woman in +black drew haughtily away and clutched the Noah's ark with a gesture of +proprietorship. + +"Go away! This is my affair." Miss Terry read her expression and sniffed. +"There is the Christmas spirit coming out again," she said to herself. +"Look at her face!" + +The black-gowned woman prepared to move on with the toy under her arm. But +the second woman caught hold of her skirt and began to speak earnestly. She +pointed to the Noah's ark, then to her two children. Her eyes were +beseeching. The little boys crowded forward eagerly. But some wicked +spirit seemed to have seized the finder of the ark. Angrily she shook off +the hand of the other woman, and clutching the box yet more firmly under +her arm, she hurried away. Once, twice, she turned and shook her head at +the ragged woman who followed her. Then, with a savage gesture at the two +children, she disappeared beyond Miss Terry's straining eyes. The poor +woman and her boys followed forlornly at a distance. + +"They really wanted it, that old Noah's ark!" exclaimed Miss Terry in +amazement. "I can scarcely believe it. But why did that other creature keep +the thing? I see! Only because she found they cared for it. Well, that is a +happy spirit for Christmas time, I should say! Humph! I did not expect to +find anything quite so mean as _that!_" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +MIRANDA + + +Miss Terry returned to the fireside, fumbled in the box, and drew out a +doll. She was an ugly, old-fashioned doll, with bruised waxen face of no +particular color. Her mop of flaxen hair was straggling and uneven, much +the worse for the attention of generations of moths. She wore a faded green +silk dress in the style of Lincoln's day, and a primitive bonnet, evidently +made by childish hands. She was a strange, dead-looking figure, with pale +eyelids closed, as Miss Terry dragged her from the box. But when she was +set upright the lids snapped open and a pair of bright blue eyes looked +straight into those of Miss Terry. It was so sudden that the lady nearly +gasped. + +"Miranda!" she exclaimed. "It is old Miranda! I have not thought of her for +years." She held the doll at arm's length, gazing fixedly at her for some +minutes. + +"I cannot burn her," she muttered at last. "It would seem almost like +murder. I don't like to throw her away, but I have vowed to get rid of +these things to-night. And I'll do it, anyway. Yes, I'll make an experiment +of her. I wonder what sort of trouble she will cause." + +Not even Miss Terry could think of seeing old Miranda lying exposed to the +winter night. She found a piece of paper, rolled up the doll in a neat +package, and tied it with red string. It was, to look upon, entirely a +tempting package. Once more she stole down the steps and hesitated where to +leave Miranda: not on the sidewalk,--for some reason that seemed +impossible. But near the foot of the flight of steps leading to the front +door she deposited the doll. The white package shone out plainly in the +illuminated street. There was no doubt that it would be readily seen. + +With a quite unexplainable interest Miss Terry watched to see what would +happen to Miranda. She waited for some time. The street seemed deserted. +Miss Terry caught the faint sound of singing. The choristers were passing +through a neighboring street, and doubtless all wayfarers within hearing of +their voices were following in their wake. + +She was thoroughly interested in her grim joke, but she was becoming +impatient. Were there to be no more passers? Must the doll stay there +unreclaimed until morning? Presently she became aware of a child's figure +drawing near. It was a little girl of about ten, very shabbily dressed, +with tangled yellow curls hanging over her shoulders. There was something +familiar about her appearance, Miss Terry could not say what it was. She +came hurrying along the sidewalk with a preoccupied air, and seemed about +to pass the steps without seeing the package lying there. But just as she +was opposite the window, her eye caught the gleam of the white paper. She +paused. She looked at it eagerly; it was such a tempting package, both as +to its size and shape! She went closer and bent down to examine it. She +took it into her bare little hands and seemed to squeeze it gently. There +is no mistaking the contours of a doll, however well it may be enveloped in +paper wrappings. The child's eyes grew more and more eager. She glanced +behind her furtively; she looked up and down the street. Then with a sudden +intuition she looked straight ahead, up the flight of steps. + +[Illustration: SHE LOOKED UP AND DOWN THE STREET] + +Miss Terry read her mind accurately. She was thinking that probably the +doll belonged in that house; some one must have dropped the package while +going out or in. Would she ring the bell and return it? Miss Terry had +not thought of that possibility. But she shook her head and her lip curled. +"Return it? Of course not! Ragged children do not usually return promising +packages which they have found,--even on Christmas Eve. Look now!" + +Once more the child glanced stealthily behind her, up and down the street. +Once more she looked up at the dark house before her, the only black spot +in a wreath of brilliancy. She did not see the face peering at her through +the curtains, a face which scanned her own half wistfully. What was to +become of Miranda? The little girl thrust the package under her ragged coat +and ran away down the street as fast as her legs could take her. + +"A thief!" cried Miss Terry. "That is the climax. I have detected a child +taking what she knew did not belong to her, on Christmas Eve! Where are all +their Sunday School lessons and their social improvement classes? I knew +it! This Christmas spirit that one hears so much about is nothing but an +empty sham. I have proved it to my satisfaction to-night. I will burn the +rest of these toys, every one of them, and then go to bed. It is too +disgusting! She was a nice-looking child, too. Poor old Miranda!" + +With something like a sigh Miss Terry strode back to the fire, where the +play box stood gaping. She had made but a small inroad upon its heaped-up +treasures. She threw herself listlessly into the chair and began to pull +over the things. Broken games and animals, dolls' dresses painfully +tailored by unskilled fingers, disjointed members,--sorry relics of past +pleasures,--one by one Miss Terry seized them between disdainful thumb and +finger and tossed them into the fire. Her face showed not a qualm at +parting with these childhood treasures; only the stern sense of a good +housekeeper's duty fulfilled. With queer contortions the bits writhed on +the coals, and finally flared into dissolution, vanishing up chimney in a +shower of sparks to the heaven of spent toys. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL + + +Almost at the bottom of the box Miss Terry's fingers closed about a small +object. Once more she drew out the papier-mâché Angel which had so excited +the wonder of Norah when once before that evening it had come to light. + +Miss Terry held it up and looked at it with the same expression on her +face, half tender, half contemptuous. "The Christmas Angel!" she murmured +involuntarily, as she had done before. And again there flashed through her +mind a vivid picture. + +It was the day before Christmas, fifty years earlier. She and her brother +Tom were trimming the Christmas tree in this very library. She saw Tom, in +a white piqué suit with short socks that were always slipping down his fat +legs. She saw herself in a white dress and blue ribbons, pouting in a +corner. They had been quarreling about the Christmas tree, disputing as to +which of them should light the first candle when the time arrived. Then +their mother came to them smiling, a sweet-faced lady who seemed not to +notice the red faces and the tears. She put something into Tom's hand +saying, "This is the Christmas Angel of peace and good-will. Hang it on the +tree, children, so that it may shed a blessing on all who come here to give +and to receive." + +How lovely and pink it looked in Tom's hand! Little Angelina had thought it +the most beautiful thing she had ever seen,--and holy, too, as if it had +some blessed charm. Fiddlestick! What queer fancies children have! Miss +Terry remembered how a strange thrill had crept through Angelina as she +gazed at it. Then she and Tom looked at each other and were ashamed of +their quarrel. Suddenly Tom held out the Angel to his sister. "You hang it +on the tree, Angelina," he said magnanimously. "I know you want to." + +But she--little fool!--she too had a fit of generosity. + +"No, you hang it, Tom. You're taller," she said. + +"I'll hang it at the very top of the tree!" he replied, nothing loath. +Eagerly he mounted the step-ladder, while Angelina watched him enviously, +thinking how clumsy he was, and how much better she could do it. + +How funny and fat Tom had looked on top of the ladder, reaching as high as +he dared! The ladder began to wobble, and he balanced precariously, while +Angelina clutched at his fat ankles with a scream of fright. But Tom +said:-- + +"Ow! Angelina, let go my ankles! You hurt! Now don't scream. I shan't fall. +Don't you know that this is the Christmas Angel, and he will never let me +get hurt on Christmas Eve?" + +Swaying wildly on one toe Tom had clutched at the air, at the tree +itself,--anywhere for support. Yet, almost as if by a miracle, he did not +fall. And the Christmas Angel was looking down from the very top of the +tree. + +Miss Terry laid the little pink figure in her lap and mused. "Mother was +wise!" she sighed. "She knew how to settle our quarrels in those days. +Perhaps if she had still been here things would have gone differently. Tom +might not have left me for good. _For good._" She emphasized the words with +a nod as if arguing against something. + +Again she took up the Christmas Angel and looked earnestly at it. Could it +be that tears were glistening in her eyes? Certainly not! With a sudden +sniff and jerk of the shoulders she leaned forward, holding the Angel +towards the fire. This should follow the other useless toys. But something +seemed to stay her hand. She drew back, hesitated, then rose to her feet. + +"I can't burn it," she said. "It's no use, I can't burn it. But I don't +want to see the thing around. I will put this out on the sidewalk, too. +Possibly this may be different and do some good to somebody." + +She wrapped the shawl about her shoulders and once more ran down the steps. +She left the Angel face upward in the middle of the sidewalk, and retreated +quickly to the house. As she opened the door to enter, she caught the +distant chorus of fresh young voices singing in a neighboring square:-- + + "Angels from the realms of glory, + Wing your flight o'er all the earth." + +When she took her place behind the curtain she was trembling a little, she +could not guess why. But now she watched with renewed eagerness. What was +to be the fate of the Christmas Angel? Would he fall into the right hands +and be hung upon some Christmas tree ere morning? Would he-- + +Miss Terry held her breath. A man was staggering along the street toward +her. He whistled noisily a vulgar song, as he reeled from curb to railing, +threatening to fall at every step. A drunken man on Christmas Eve! Miss +Terry felt a great loathing for him. He was at the foot of the steps now. +He was close upon the Angel. Would he see it, or would he tread upon it in +his disgusting blindness? + +Yes--no! He saw the little pink image lying on the bricks, and with a lurch +forward bent to examine it. Miss Terry flattened her nose against the pane +eagerly. She expected to see him fall upon the Angel bodily. But no; he +righted himself with a whoop of drunken mirth. + +"Angel!" she heard him croak with maudlin accent. "Pink Angel, begorrah! +What doin' 'ere, eh? Whoop! Go back to sky, Angel!" and lifting a brutal +foot he kicked the image into the street. Then with a shriek of laughter he +staggered away out of sight. + +Miss Terry found herself trembling with indignation. The idea! He had +kicked the Christmas Angel,--the very Angel that Tom had hung on their +tree! It was sacrilege, or at least--Fiddlestick! Miss Terry's mind was +growing confused. She had a sudden impulse to rescue the toy from being +trampled into filthiness. The fire was better than that. + +She hurried down the steps into the street, forgetting her shawl. She +sought in the snow and snatched the pink morsel to safety. Straight to the +fire she carried it, and once more held it to the flames. But again she +found it impossible to burn the thing. Once, twice, she tried. But each +time something seemed to clutch back her wrist. At last she shrugged +impatiently and laid the Angel on the mantelpiece beside the square old +marble clock, which marked the hour of half-past eight. + +"Well, I won't burn it to-night," she reflected. "Somehow, I can't do it +just now. I don't see what has got into me! But to-morrow I will. Yes, +to-morrow I will." + +She sat down in the armchair and fumbled in the old play box for the +remaining scraps. There were but a few meaningless bits of ribbon and +gauze, with the end of a Christmas candle, the survivor of some past +festival, burned on some tree in the past. All these but the last she +tossed into the fire, where they made a final protesting blaze. The +candle-end fell to the floor unnoticed. + +"There! That is the last of the stuff," she exclaimed with grim +satisfaction, shaking the dust from her black silk skirt. "It is all gone +now, thank Heaven, and I can go to bed in peace. No, I forgot Norah. I +suppose I must sit up and wait for her. Bother the girl! She ought to be in +by now. What can she find to amuse her all this time? Christmas Eve! +Fiddlestick! But I have got rid of a lot of rubbish to-night, and that is +worth something." + +She sank back in her chair and clasped her hands over her breast with a +sigh. She felt strangely weary. Her eyes sought the clock once more, and +doing so rested upon the Christmas Angel lying beside it. She frowned and +closed her eyes to shut out the sight with its haunting memories and +suggestions---- + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +BEFORE THE FIRE + + +Suddenly there was a volume of sound outside, and a great brightness filled +the room. Miss Terry opened her eyes. The fire was burning red; but a +yellow light, as from thousands of candles, shone in at the window, and +there was the sound of singing,--the sweetest singing that Miss Terry had +ever heard. + + "An Angel of the Lord came down, + And glory shone around." + +The words seemed chanted by the voices of young angels. Miss Terry passed +her hands over her eyes and glanced at the clock. But what the hour was she +never noticed, for her gaze was filled with something else. Beside the +clock, in the spot where she had laid it a few minutes before, was the +Christmas Angel. But now, instead of lying helplessly on its back, it was +standing on rosy feet, with arms outstretched toward her. Over its head +fluttered gauzy wings. From under the yellow hair which rippled over the +shoulders two blue eyes beamed kindly upon her, and the mouth widened into +the sweetest smile. + +"Peace on earth to men of good-will!" cried the Angel, and the tone of his +speech was music, yet quite natural and thrilling. + +Miss Terry stared hard at the Angel and rubbed her eyes, saying to herself, +"Fiddlestick! I am dreaming!" + +But she could not rub away the vision. When she opened her eyes the Angel +still stood tiptoe on the mantel-shelf, smiling at her and shaking his +golden head. + +"Angelina!" said the Angel softly; and Miss Terry trembled to hear her name +thus spoken for the first time in years. "Angelina, you do not want to +believe your own eyes, do you? But I am real; more real than the things you +see every day. You must believe in me. I am the Christmas Angel." + +"I know it." Miss Terry's voice was hoarse and unmanageable, as of one in a +nightmare. "I remember." + +"You remember!" repeated the Angel. "Yes; you remember the day when you and +Tom hung me on the Christmas tree. You were a sweet little girl then, with +blue eyes and yellow curls. You believed the Christmas story and loved +Santa Claus. Then you were simple and affectionate and generous and +happy." + +"Fiddlestick!" Miss Terry tried to say. But the word would not come. + +"Now you have lost the old belief and the old love," went on the Angel. +"Now you have studied books and read wise men's sayings. You understand the +higher criticism, and the higher charity, and the higher egoism. You don't +believe in mere giving. You don't believe in the Christmas economics,--you +know better. But are you happy, dear Angelina?" + +Again Miss Terry thrilled at the sound of her name so sweetly spoken; but +she answered nothing. The Angel replied for her. + +"No, you are not happy because you have cut yourself off from the things +that bring folk together in peace and good-will at this holy time. Where +are your friends? Where is your brother to-night? You are still hard and +unforgiving to Tom. You refused to see him to-day, though he wrote so +boyishly, so humbly and affectionately. You have not tried to make any soul +happy. You don't believe in _me_, the Christmas Spirit." + +There is such a word as Fiddlestick, whatever it may mean. But Miss Terry's +mind and tongue were unable to form it. + +"The Christmas spirit!" continued the Angel. "What is life worth if one +cannot believe in the Christmas spirit?" + +With a powerful effort Miss Terry shook off her nightmare sufficiently to +say, "The Christmas spirit is no real thing. I have proved it to-night. It +is not real. It is a humbug!" + +"Not real? A humbug?" repeated the Angel softly. "And you have proved it, +Angelina, this very night?" + +Miss Terry nodded. + +"I know what you have done," said the Angel. "I know very well. How keen +you were! How clever! You made a test of Chance, to prove your point." + +Again Miss Terry nodded with complacency. + +"What knowledge of the world! What grasp of human nature!" commented the +Angel, smiling. "It is like you mere mortals to say, 'I will make my test +in my own way. If certain things happen, I shall foresee what the result +must be. If certain other things happen, I shall know that I am right.' +Events fall out as you expect, and you smile with satisfaction, feeling +your wisdom justified. It ought to make you happy. But does it?" + +Miss Terry regarded the Angel doubtfully. + +"Look now!" he went on, holding up a rosy finger. "You are so +near-sighted! You are so unimaginative! You do not dream beyond the thing +you see. You judge the tale finished while the best has yet to be told. And +you stake your faith, your hope, your charity upon this blind human +judgment,--which is mere Chance!" + +Miss Terry opened her lips to say, "I saw--" but the Angel interrupted her. + +"You saw but the beginning," he said. "You saw but the first page of each +history. Shall I turn over the leaves and let you read what really +happened? Shall I help you to see the whole truth instead of a part? On +this night holy Truth, which is of Heaven, comes for all men to see and to +believe. Look!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +JACK AGAIN + + +The Christmas Angel gently waved his hand to and fro. Gradually, as Miss +Terry sat back in her chair, the library grew dark; or rather, things faded +into an indistinguishable blur. Then it seemed as if she were sitting at a +theatre gazing at a great stage. But at this theatre there was nothing +about her, nothing between her and the place where things were happening. + + * * * * * + +First she saw two little ragamuffins quarreling over something in the snow. +She recognized them. They were the two Jewish boys who had picked up the +Jack-in-the-box. An officer appeared, and they ran away, the bigger boy +having possession of the toy; the smaller one with fists in his eyes, +bawling with disappointment. + +Miss Terry's lips curled with the cynical disgust which she had felt when +first witnessing this scene. But a sweet voice--and she knew it was the +Angel's--whispered in her ear, "Wait and see!" + +She watched the two boys run through the streets until they came to a dark +corner. There the little fellow caught up with the other, and once more the +struggle began. It was a hard and bloody fight. But this time the victory +was with the smaller lad, who used his fists and feet like an enraged +animal, until the other howled for mercy and handed over the disputed toy. + +"Whatcher want it fer, Sam?" he blubbered as he saw it go into the little +fellow's pocket. + +"Mind yer own business! I just want it," answered Sam surlily. + +"Betcher I know," taunted the bigger boy. + +"Betcher yer don't." + +"Do!" + +"Don't!" + +Another fight seemed imminent. But wisdom prevailed with Sammy. He would +not challenge fate a third time. "Come on, then, and see," he grunted. + +And Ike followed. Off the two trudged, through the brilliantly lighted +streets, until they came to a part of the city where the ways were narrower +and dark. + +"Huh! Knowed you was comin' here," commented Ike as they turned into a +grim, dirty alley. + +Little Sam growled, "Didn't!" apparently as a matter of habit. + +"Did!" reasserted Ike. "Just where I was comin' myself." + +Sam turned to him with a grin. + +"Was yer now? By--! Ain't that funny? I thought of it right off." + +"Sure. Same here!" + +They both burst into a guffaw and executed an impromptu double-shuffle of +delight. They were at the door of a tenement house with steep stairs +leading into darkness. Up three flights pounded the two pairs of heavy +boots, till they reached a half-open door, whence issued the clatter of a +sewing-machine and the voices of children. Sam stood on the threshold +grinning debonairly, with hands thrust into his pockets. Ike peered over +his shoulder, also grinning. + +It was a meagre room into which they gazed, a room the chief furniture of +which seemed to be babies. Two little ones sprawled on the floor. A third +tiny tot lay in a broken-down carriage beside the door. A pale, ill-looking +woman was running the machine. On the cot bed was crumpled a fragile +little fellow of about five, and a small pair of crutches lay across the +foot of the bed. + +When the two boys appeared in the doorway, the woman stopped her machine +and the children set up a howl of pleasure. "Sammy! Ikey!" cried the woman, +smiling a wan welcome, as the babies crept and toddled toward the +newcomers. "Where ye come from?" + +"Been to see the shops and the lights in the swell houses," answered Sammy +with a grimace. "Gee! Ain't they wastin' candles to beat the cars!" + +"Enough to last a family a whole year," muttered Ike with disgust. + +The woman sighed. "Maybe they ain't wasted exactly," she said. "How I'd +like to see 'em! But I got to finish this job. I told the chil'ren they +mustn't expect anything this Christmas. But they are too little to know the +difference anyway; all but Joe. I wish I had something for Joe." + +"I got something for Joe," said Sammy unexpectedly. + +The face of the pale little cripple lighted. + +"What is it?" he asked eagerly. "Oh, what is it? A real Christmas present +for me?" + +"Naw! It ain't a Christmas present," said Sam. + +"We don't care anything about Christmas," volunteered Ikey with a grin. + +Sam looked at him with a frown of rebuke. + +"It's just a _present_," he said. "And it didn't cost a cent. I didn't buy +it. I--we found it!" + +"Found it in the street?" Joe's eyes shone. + +"Yah!" the boys nodded. + +"Oh, it _is_ a Christmas present!" cried Joe. "Santa Claus must have +dropped it there for me, because he knew we hadn't any chimney in this +house, and he sent you kind, kind boys to bring it to me." + +The two urchins looked sideways at each other, but said nothing. Presently +Sam drew out the box from his pocket and tried to thrust it into Ike's +hand. "You give it to 'um," he said. "You're the biggest." + +"Naw! You give it. You found it," protested Ike. + +"Ah, g'wan!" + +"Big fool!" + +There was a tussle, and it almost seemed as if the past unpleasantness was +to be repeated from an opposite cause. But Joe's voice settled the dispute. + +"Oh, Sammy, please!" he cried. "I can't wait another minute. Do please give +it to me now!" + +At these words Sam stepped forward without further argument and laid the +box on the bed in front of the little cripple. The babies crowded about. +The mother left her machine and stood smiling faintly at the foot of the +bed. + +Joe pressed the spring. _Ping!_ Out sprang the Jack-in-the-box, with the +same red nose, the same leer, the same roguish eyes which had surprised the +children of fifty years ago. + +[Illustration: _PING!_ OUT SPRANG THE JACK-IN-THE-BOX] + +Jack was always sure of his audience. My! How they screamed and begged Joe +to "do it again." And as for Joe, he lay back on his pillow and laughed and +laughed as though he would never stop. It was the first Jack any of them +had seen. + +Tears stood in the mother's eyes. "Well," she said, "it's as good as a play +to see him. Joe hasn't laughed like that for months. You boys have done him +lots of good. I wouldn't wonder if it helped him get well! If you was +Christians I'd say you showed the real Christmas spirit. But Lord--perhaps +ye do, all the same! I dunno!" + +Sam and Ike were so busy playing with the children that they did not hear. + + * * * * * + +Gradually the tenement house faded and became a blur before Miss Terry's +eyes. Once more she saw the mantel-shelf before her and the Christmas Angel +with outstretched arms waving to and fro. "You see!" he said. "You did not +guess all the pleasure that was shut up in that box with old Jack, did +you?" + +Miss Terry shook her head. + +"And you see how different it all was from what you thought. Now let us see +what became of the Canton-flannel dog." + +"The Flanton Dog." Miss Terry amended the phrase under her breath. It +seemed so natural to use Tom's word. + +"Yes, the Flanton Dog," the Angel smiled. "What do you think became of +him?" + +"I saw what became of him," said Miss Terry. "Bob Cooper threw him under an +automobile, and he was crushed flatter than a pancake." + +"Then you left the window," said the Angel. "In your human way you assumed +that this was the end. But wait and see." + +Once more the room darkened and blurred, and Miss Terry looked out upon +past events as upon a busy, ever-shifting stage. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE DOG AGAIN + + +She saw the snowy street, into which, from the tip of his stick, Bob Cooper +had just tossed the Flanton Dog. She saw, what she had not seen before, the +woman and child on the opposite side of the street. She saw the baby +stretch out wistful hands after the dog lying in the snow. Then an +automobile honked past, and she felt again the thrill of horror as it ran +over the poor old toy. At the same moment the child screamed, and she saw +it point tearfully at the Flanton tragedy. The mother, who had seen nothing +of all this, stooped and spoke to him reprovingly. + +"What's the matter, Johnnie?" she said. "Sh! Don't make such a noise. Here +we are at Mrs. Wales's gate, and you mustn't make a fuss. Now be a good boy +and wait here till Mother comes out." + +She rang the area bell and stood basket in hand, waiting to be admitted. +But Johnnie gazed at one spot in the street, with eyes full of tears, and +with now and then a sob gurgling from his throat. He could not forget what +he had seen. + +The door opened for the mother, who disappeared inside the house, with one +last command to the child: "Now be a good boy, Johnnie. I'll be back in +half a minute." + +Hardly was she out of sight when Johnnie started through the snowdrift +toward the middle of the street. With difficulty he lifted his little legs +out of the deep snow; now and then he stumbled and fell into the soft mass. +But he rose only the more determined upon his errand, and kept his eyes +fixed on the wreck of the Flanton Dog. + +Bob Cooper, who was idly strolling up and down the block, smoking a +cigarette, as he watched the flitting girlish shadows in a certain window +opposite, saw the child's frantic struggles in the snow and was intensely +amused. "Bah Jove!" he chuckled. "I believe he's after the wretched dawg +that I tossed over there with my stick. Fahncy it!" And carelessly he +puffed a whiff of smoke. + +At last the baby reached the middle of the street and stooped to pick up +the battered toy. It was flattened and shapeless, but the child clasped it +tenderly and began to coo softly to it. + +"Bah Jove!" repeated Cooper. "Fahncy caring so much about anything! Poor +kid! Perhaps that is all the Christmas he will have." He blew a thoughtful +puff through his nose. "Christmas Eve!" The thought flashed through his +mind with a new appeal. + +Just then came a sudden "_Honk, honk!_" An automobile had turned the corner +and was coming up at full speed. It was the same machine which had passed a +few minutes earlier in the opposite direction. + +"Hi there!" Cooper yelled to the child. But the latter was sitting in the +snow in the middle of the street, rocking back and forth, with the Flanton +Dog in his arms. There was scarcely time for action. Bob dropped his +cigarette and his cane, made one leap into the street and another to the +child, and by the impact of his body threw the baby into the drift at the +curb. With a horrified _honk_ the automobile passed over the young man, who +lay senseless in the snow. + +[Illustration: BOB COOPER SAVES THE BABY] + +He was not killed. Miss Terry saw him taken to his home close by, where his +broken leg was set and his bruises attended to. She saw him lying bandaged +and white on his bed when the woman and her child were brought to see him. +Johnnie was still clasping closely the unlucky Flanton Dog. + +"Well, Kid," said the young man feebly, "so you saved the dog, after all." + +"O sir!" cried the poor woman, weeping. "Only to think that he would not +be here now but for you. What a Christmas that would have been for me! You +were so good, so brave!" + +"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. + +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. + +She pinched the package gently. Yes, there could be no doubt about it. It +was a doll,--not a very large doll; but Mary reflected that she had never +thought she should care for a large doll. Undoubtedly it was a very nice +one. Had she not found it in a swell part of the city, on the steps of a +swell-looking house? Mary gloated over the doll as she fancied it; with +real hair, and eyes that opened and shut; with four little white teeth, and +hands with dimples in the knuckles. She had seen such dolls in the windows +of the big shops. But she had never hoped to have one for her very own. + +"Maybe it will have on a blue silk dress and white kid shoes, like that one +I saw this morning!" she mused rapturously. + +She pinched the spot where she fancied the doll's feet ought to be. + +"Yes, she's got shoes, sure enough! I bet they're white, too. They _feel_ +white. Oh, what fun I shall have with her,"--she hugged the doll +fondly,--"if Uncle and Aunt don't take her away!" + +The sudden thought made her stand still in horror. "They sold Mother's +little clock for rum," she said bitterly. "They sold the ring with the red +stone that Father gave me on my birthday when I was seven. They sold the +presents that I got at Sunday School last year. Oh, wouldn't it be dreadful +if they should sell my new doll! And I know they will want to if they see +her." She squeezed the bundle closer with the prescient pang of parting. + +"Maybe they'll be out somewhere." With this faint hope she reached the +tenement and crept up the dingy stairs. She peeped in at the door. Alas! +Her uncle and aunt were in the kitchen, through which she had to pass. They +had company; some dirty-looking men and women, and there were a jug and +glasses on the table before them. Mary's heart sank, but she nodded bravely +to the company and tried to slip through the crowd to the other room. But +her aunt was quick to see that she carried something under her coat. + +"What you got there? A Christmas present?" she sneered. + +Mary flushed. "No," she said slowly, "just something I found." + +"Found? Hello, what is it? A package!" + +Her uncle advanced and snatched it from her. + +"Please," pleaded Mary, "please, I found it. It is mine. I think it is only +a doll." + +"A doll! Huh! Who needs a doll?" hiccoughed her uncle. "We want something +more to drink. We'll sell it--" + +A bellow of laughter resounded through the room. The paper being torn +roughly away, poor Miranda stood revealed in all her faded beauty. The +pallid waxen face, straggling hair, and old-fashioned dress presented a +sorry sight to the greedy eyes which had expected to find something +exchangeable for drink. A sorry sight she was to Mary, who had hoped for +something so much lovelier. A flush of disappointment came into her cheek, +and tears to her eyes. + +"Here, take your old doll," said her uncle roughly, thrusting it into her +arms. "Take your old doll and get away with her. If that's the best you can +find you'd better _steal_ something next time." + +Steal something! Had she not in fact stolen it? Mary knew very well that +she had, and she flushed pinker yet to think what a fool she had made of +herself for nothing. She took the despised doll and retreated into the +other room, followed by a chorus of jeers and comments. She banged the door +behind her and sat down with poor Miranda on her knees, crying as if her +heart would break. She had so longed for a beautiful doll! It did seem too +cruel that when she found one it should turn out to be so ugly. She seized +poor Miranda and shook her fiercely. + +"You horrid old thing!" she said. "Ain't you ashamed to fool me so? Ain't +you ashamed to make me think you was a lovely doll with pretty clo'es and +_white kid shoes?_ Ain't you?" + +She shook Miranda again until her eyeballs rattled in her head. The doll +fell to the floor and lay there with closed eyes. Her face was pallid and +ghastly. Her bonnet had fallen off, and her hair stuck out wildly in every +direction. Her legs were doubled under her in the most helpless fashion. +She was the forlornest figure of a doll imaginable. Presently Mary drew her +hands away from her eyes and looked down at Miranda. There was something in +the doll's attitude as she lay there which touched the little girl's heart. +Once she had seen a woman who had been injured in the street,--she would +never forget it. The poor creature's eyes had been closed, and her face, +under the fallen bonnet, was of this same pasty color. Mary shuddered. +Suddenly she felt a warm rush of pity for the doll. + +"You poor old thing!" she exclaimed, looking at Miranda almost tenderly. +"I'm sorry I shook you. You look so tired and sad and homesick! I wonder if +somebody is worrying about you this minute. It was very wicked of me to +take you away--on Christmas Eve, too! I wish I had left you where I found +you. Maybe some little girl is crying now because you are lost." + +Mary stooped and lifted the doll gently upon her knees. As she took Miranda +up, the blue eyes opened and seemed to look full at her. Miranda's one +beauty was her eyes. Mary felt her heart grow warmer and warmer toward the +quaint stranger. + +"You have lovely eyes," she murmured. "I think after all you are almost +pretty. Perhaps I should grow to like you awfully. You are not a bit like +the doll I hoped to have; but that is not your fault." A thought made her +face brighten. "Why, if you had been a beautiful doll they would have taken +you away and sold you for rum." Her face expressed utter disgust. She +hugged Miranda close with a sudden outburst of affection. "Oh, you dear old +thing!" she cried. "I am so glad you are--just like this. I am so glad, for +now I can keep you always and always, and no one will want to take you away +from me." + +She rocked to and fro, holding the doll tightly to her heart. Mary was not +one to feel a half-passion about anything. "I will make you some new +dresses," she said, fingering the old-fashioned silk with a puzzled air. "I +wonder why your mother dressed you so queerly? She was not much of a sewer +if she made this bonnet!" Scornfully she took off the primitive bonnet and +smoothed out the tangled hair. "I wonder what you have on underneath," she +said. + +With gentle fingers she began to undress Miranda. Off came the green silk +dress with its tight "basque" and overskirt. Off came the ruffled petticoat +and little chemise edged with fine lace. And Miranda stood in shapeless, +kid-bodied ugliness, which stage of evolution the doll of her day had +reached. + +But there was something more. Around her neck she wore a ribbon; on the +ribbon was a cardboard medal; and on the medal a childish hand had +scratched the legend,-- + +_Miranda Terry._ +If lost, please return her to her mother, +_Angelina Terry_, +87 Overlook Terrace. + +It was such a card as Miss Terry herself had worn in the days when her +mother had first let her and Tom go out on the street without a nurse. + +Mary stared hard at the bit of cardboard. 87 Overlook Terrace! Yes, that +was where she had found the doll. She remembered now seeing the name on a +street corner. _Miranda;_ what a pretty name for a doll! _Angelina Terry;_ +so that was the name of the little girl who had lost Miranda. Angelina +must be feeling very sorry now. Perhaps she was crying herself to sleep, +for it was growing late. + +Her two girl cousins came romping into the bedroom. They had been having a +hilarious evening. + +"Hello, Mary!" they cried. "We heard about your great find!"--"Playing with +your old doll, are you? Goin' to hang up her stockin' and see if Santa +Claus will fill it?"--"Huh! Santa Claus won't come to _this_ house, I +guess!" + +Mary had almost forgotten that it was Christmas Eve. There had been nothing +in the house to remind her. Perhaps Angelina Terry had hung up a stocking +for Miranda at 87 Overlook Terrace. But there would be no Miranda to see it +the next morning. + +Her cousins teased her for some time, while they undressed, and Mary grew +sulky. She sat in her corner and answered them shortly. But presently the +room was quiet, for the girls slept easily. Then Mary crept into her little +cot with the doll in her arms. She loved Miranda so much that she would +never part with her, no indeed; not even though she now knew where Miranda +belonged. 87 Overlook Terrace! The figures danced before her eyes +maliciously. She wished she could forget them. And the thought of Angelina +Terry kept coming to her. Poor Angelina! + +"She ain't 'poor Angelina,'" argued Mary to herself. "She's _rich_ +Angelina. Doesn't she live in a big house in the swell part of the city? I +s'pose she has hundreds of dolls, much handsomer than Miranda, and lots of +other toys. I guess she won't miss this one queer old doll. I guess she'd +let me keep it if she knew I hadn't any of my own. I guess it ought to be +my doll. Anyway, I'm going to keep her. I don't believe Angelina loves +Miranda so much as I do." + +She laid her cheek against the doll's cold waxen one and presently fell +asleep. + +But she slept uneasily. In the middle of the night she awoke and lay for +hours tossing and unhappy in the stuffy little room. The clock struck one, +two, three. At last she gave a great sigh, and cuddling Miranda in her arms +turned over, with peace in her heart. + +"I will play you are mine, my very own dollie, for just this one night," +she whispered in Miranda's ear. "To-morrow will be Christmas Day, and I +will take you back to your little mother, Angelina Terry. I can't do a mean +thing at Christmas time,--not even for you, dear Miranda." + +Thereupon she fell into a peaceful sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE ANGEL AGAIN + + +"Will she bring it back?" asked Miss Terry eagerly, when once more she +found herself under the gaze of the Christmas Angel. He nodded brightly. + +"To-morrow morning you will see," he said. "It will prove that all I have +shown you is really true." + +"A pretty child," said Miss Terry musingly. "A very nice child indeed. I +believe she looks very much as I used to be myself." + +"You see, she is not a thief, after all; not _yet_," said the Angel. "What +a pity that she must live in that sad home, with such terrible people! A +sensitive child like her, craving sympathy and affection,--what chance has +she for happiness? What would you yourself have been in surroundings like +hers?" + +"Yes, she is very like what I was. Of course I shall let her keep the +doll." + +Miss Terry hesitated. The Angel looked at her steadily and his glance +seemed to read her half-formed thoughts. + +"Surely," he said. "It seems to belong to her, does it not? But is this +all? I wonder if something more does not belong to her." + +"What more?" asked Miss Terry shortly. + +"A home!" cried the Angel. + +Miss Terry groped in her memory for a scornful ejaculation which she had +once been fond of using, but there was no such word to be found. Instead +there came to her lips the name, "Mary." + +The Angel repeated it softly. "_Mary._ It is a blessed name," he said. +"Blessed the roof that shelters a Mary in her need." + +There was a long silence, in which Miss Terry felt new impulses stirring +within her; impulses drawing her to the child whose looks recalled her own +childhood. The Angel regarded her with beaming eyes. After some time he +said quietly, "Now let us see what became of your last experiment." + +Miss Terry started. It seemed as if she had been interrupted in pleasant +dreaming. "_You_ were the last experiment," she said. "I know what became +of you. Here you are!" + +"Yet more may have happened than you guessed," replied the Angel meaningly. +"I have tried to show you how often that is the case. Look again." + +Without moving from her chair Miss Terry seemed to be looking out on her +sidewalk, where, so it seemed, she had just laid the pink figure of the +Angel. She saw the drunken man approach. She heard his coarse laugh; saw +his brutal movement as he kicked the Christmas token into the street. In +sick disgust she saw him reel away out of sight. She saw herself run down +the steps, rescue the image, and bring it into the house. Surely the story +was finished. What more could there be? + +But something bade her vision follow the steps of the wretched man. Down +the street he reeled, singing a blasphemous song. With a whoop he rounded a +corner and ran into a happy party which filled sidewalk and street, as it +hurried in the direction from which he came. Good-naturedly they jostled +him against the wall, and he grasped a railing to steady himself as they +swept by. It was the choir on their way to carol in the next street. Before +them went the cross-bearer, lifting high his simple wooden emblem. + +[Illustration: HE GRASPED A RAILING TO STEADY HIMSELF] + +The eyes of the drunken man caught sight of this, and wavered. The presence +of the crowd conveyed no meaning to his dazed brains. But there was +something in the familiar symbol which held his vision. He looked, and +crossed himself, remembering the traditions of his childhood. Some of +the boys were humming as they went the stirring strains of an ancient +Christmas march known to all nations; a carol which began, some say, as a +rousing drinking chorus. + +The familiar strain touched some chord in the sodden brain. The man gave a +feeble whinny, trying to follow the melody. He pulled himself together and +lurched forward in a sudden impulse to join the band of pilgrims. But by +the time he had taken three steps they had vanished, miraculously, as it +seemed to him. + +"Begorra, they're gone!" he cried. "Who were they? Were they rale folks? +What was it they was singin'?" + +He sank back helplessly on a flight of steps. "_Ve-ni-te a-do-re-mus!_" he +croaked in a quavering basso. And his tangled mind went through strange +processes. Suddenly, there came to him in a flash of exaggerated memory the +figure of the Christmas Angel which not ten minutes earlier he had kicked +into the street. A pious horror fell upon him. + +"Mither o' mercy!" he cried, again crossing himself. "What have I been an' +done? It was a howly image; an' what did I do to ut? Lemme go back an' find +ut, an' take ut up out av the street." + +Greatly sobered by his fear, he staggered down the block and around the +corner to the steps of Miss Terry's house. + +"This is the place," he mused. "I know ut; here's where the frindly +lam'post hild me in its arrums. I rimimber there was a dark house forninst +me. Here's where ut lay on the sidewalk, all pink an' pretty. An' I kicked +ut into the street! Where is ut now? Where gone? Howly Mither! Here's the +spot where ut fell, look now! The shape of uts little body and the wings of +ut in the snow. But 'tis gone intirely!" He rubbed his eyes and crossed +himself again. "'Tis flown away," he muttered. "'Tis gone back to Hiven to +tell Mary Mither o' the wicked thing I done this night. Oh, 'tis a miracle +that's happened! An' oh! The wicked man I am, drunk and disorderly on the +Howly Eve!" + + "O come, all ye faithful, + Joyful and triumphant!" + +Once more he heard the familiar strain taken up lustily by many voices. + +"Hear all the world singin' on the way to Bethlehem!" he said, and the +stupor seemed to leave his brain. He no longer staggered. + +"I'll run an' join 'em, an' I won't drink another drop this night." He +looked up at the starry sky. "Maybe the Angel hears me. Maybe he'll help +me to keep straight to-morrow. It might be my Guardian Angel himsilf that I +treated so! Saints forgive me!" + +With head bowed humbly, but no longer reeling, he moved away towards the +sound of music. + + * * * * * + +"You were his Guardian Angel," said Miss Terry, when once more she saw the +figure on the mantel-shelf. And she spoke with reverent gentleness. + +The Angel smiled brightly. "The Christmas Spirit is a guardian angel to +many," he said. "Never again despise me, Angelina. Never again make light +of my influence." + +"Never again," murmured Miss Terry half unconsciously. "I wish it were not +too late--" + +"It is never too late," said the Christmas Angel eagerly, as if he read her +unspoken thought. "Oh, never too late, Angelina." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE CHRISTMAS CANDLE + + +Suddenly there was a sound,--a dull reverberating sound. It seemed to Miss +Terry to come from neither north, south, east, nor west, but from a +different world. Ah! She recognized it now. It was somebody knocking on the +library door. + +Miss Terry gave a long sigh and drew herself up in her chair. "It must be +Norah just come back," she said to herself. "I had forgotten Norah +completely. It must be shockingly late. Come in," she called, as she +glanced at the clock. + +She rubbed her eyes and looked again. A few minutes after nine! She had +thought it must be midnight! + +Norah entered to find her mistress staring at the mantel where the clock +stood. She saw lying beside the clock the pink Angel which had fallen from +the box as she brought it in,--the box now empty by the fire. + +"Law, Miss," she said, "have you burned them all up but him? I'm glad you +saved him, he's so pretty." + +"Norah," said Miss Terry with an effort, "is that clock right?" + +"Yes'm," said Norah. "I set it this morning. I came back as soon as I +could, Miss," she added apologetically. + +"It isn't that," answered Miss Terry, drawing her hand across her forehead +dazedly. "I did not mind your absence. But I thought it must be later." + +"Oh, no, I wouldn't stay out any later when you was alone here, Miss," said +Norah penitently. "I felt ashamed after I had gone. I ought not to have +left you so,--on Christmas Eve. But oh, Miss! The singing was so beautiful, +and the houses looked so grand with the candles in the windows. It is like +a holy night indeed!" + +Miss Terry stooped and picked up something from the floor. It was the bit +of candle-end which had escaped the holocaust. + +"Are the candles still lighted, Norah?" she asked, eyeing the bit of wax in +her hand. + +"Yes'm, some of them," answered the maid. "It is getting late, and a good +many have burned out. But some houses are still as bright as ever." + +"Perhaps it is not too late, then," murmured Miss Terry, as if yielding a +disputed point. "Let us hurry, Norah." + +She rose, and going to the mantel-shelf gently took up the figure of the +Angel, while Norah looked on in amazement. + +"Norah," said Miss Terry, with an eagerness which made her voice tremble, +"I want you to hang the Christmas Angel in the window there. I too have a +fancy to burn a candle to-night. If it is not too late I'd like to have a +little share in the Christmas spirit." + +Norah's eyes lighted. "Oh, yes'm," she said. "I'll hang it right away. And +I'll find an empty spool to hold the candle." + +She bustled briskly about, and presently in the window appeared a little +device unlike any other in the block. Against the darkness within, the +figure of the Angel with arms outstretched towards the street shone in a +soft light from the flame of a single tiny candle such as blossom on +Christmas trees. + +It caught the attention of many home-goers, who said, smiling, "How simple! +How pretty! How quaint! It is a type of the Christmas spirit which is +abroad to-night. You can feel it everywhere, blessing the city." + +For some minutes before the candle was lighted, a man muffled in a heavy +overcoat had been standing in a doorway opposite Miss Terry's house. He was +tall and grizzled and his face was sad. He stared up at the gloomy windows, +the only oblongs of blackness in the illuminated block, and he shivered, +shrugging his shoulders. + +"The same as ever!" he said to himself. "I might have known she would never +change. Any one else, on Christmas Eve, after the letter I wrote her, would +have softened a little. But I might have known. She is hard as nails! Of +course, it was my fault in the first place to leave her as I did. But when +I acknowledged it, and when I wrote that letter on Christmas Eve, I thought +Angelina might feel differently." He looked at his watch. "Nearly half-past +nine," he muttered. "I may as well go home. She said she wanted to be let +alone; that Christmas meant nothing to her. I don't dare to call,--on my +only sister! I suppose she is there all alone, and here I am all alone, +too. What a pity! If I saw the least sign--" + +Just then there was the spark of a match against the darkness framed in by +the window opposite. A hand and arm shone in the flicker of light across +the upper sash. A tiny spark, tremulous at first, like a bird alighting on +a frail branch, paused, steadied, and became fixed. In the light of a +small taper the man caught a glimpse of a pale, long face in a frame of +silver hair. It faded into the background. But above the candle he now saw, +with arms outstretched as it seemed toward himself, a pink little angel +with gauzy wings. + +The man's heart gave a leap. Sudden memories thronged his brain, making him +almost dizzy. At last they formulated into one smothered cry. "The +Christmas Angel! It is the very same pink Angel that Angelina and I used to +hang on our Christmas tree!" + +In three great leaps, like a schoolboy, he crossed the street and ran up +the steps of Number 87. The Christmas Angel seemed to smile with ineffable +sweetness as he gave the bell a vigorous pull. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +TOM + + +Miss Terry was leaning on the mantel-shelf looking into the fire, when the +bell pealed furiously. She started and turned pale. + +"Lord 'a' mercy!" ejaculated Norah, who was still admiring the effect of +the window-decoration. "What's that? Who can be calling here to-night, +making such a noise?" + +"Go to the door, Norah," said Miss Terry with a strange note in her voice. +"It may be some one to see me. It is not too late." + +"Yes'm," said Norah, obedient but bewildered. + +Presently the library door opened and a figure strode in; a tall, +broad-shouldered man in a fur overcoat. For a moment he stood just inside +the door, hesitating. Miss Terry took two steps forward from the +fire-place. + +"Tom!" she said faintly. "You came,--after all!" + +"After all, Angelina," he said. "Yes, because I saw _that_," he waved his +hand toward the window. "That gave me courage to come in. It is our +Christmas Angel. I remember all about it. Does it mean anything, Angelina?" + +Miss Terry held out a moment longer. Then she faltered forward. "O Tom!" +she sobbed, as she felt his brotherly, strong arms about her. "O Tom! And +so he has brought you back to me, and me to you!" + +"He? Angelina girl, who?" He smoothed her silver hair with rough, kind +fingers. + +"Why, the Christmas Angel; our Guardian Angel, Tom. All these years I kept +him in the play box, and I was going to burn him up. But I couldn't do it, +Tom. How wonderful it is!" + +They sat down before the fire and she began to tell him the whole story. +But she interrupted herself to send for Norah, who came to her, mystified +and half scandalized by the greeting which she had seen those two oldsters +exchange. + +"This is my brother Tom, Norah, who has come back," she said. "I believe it +is not too late to make some preparation for Christmas Day. The stores will +still be open. Run out and order things for a grand occasion, Norah. And--O +Norah!" a sudden remembrance came to her. "If you have time, will you +please get some toys and pretty things such as a little girl would like; a +little girl of about ten, with my complexion,--I mean, with yellow hair and +blue eyes. We may have a little guest to-morrow." + +"Yes'm," said Norah, moving like one in a dream. + +"A guest?" exclaimed Tom. And Miss Terry told him about Mary. + +"I love little girls," said Tom, "especially little girls with yellow hair +and blue eyes, such as you used to have, Angelina." + +"You will like Mary, then," said Miss Terry, with a pretty pink flush of +pleasure in her cheeks. + +"I shall like her, _if_ she comes," amended Tom, who, man-like, received +with reservations the account of a vision vouchsafed not unto him. + +"She will come," said Miss Terry with her old positiveness, glancing +towards the window where the Christmas Angel hung. + +Then arose the sound of singing outside the house. The passing choristers +had spied the quaint window, now the only one in the street which remained +lighted:-- + + "When Christ was born of Mary free, + In Bethlehem, in that fair citye, + Angels sang with mirth and glee, + _In Excelsis Gloria!_" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +CHRISTMAS DAY + + +And Mary came. The brother and sister were at breakfast,--the happiest +which either of them had known for years,--when there came a timid pull at +the front-door bell. Miss Angelina laid down her knife and fork and looked +across the table at Tom. + +"She has come. Mary has come," she said. "Norah, if it is a little girl +with a package under her arm, bring her in here." + +"Yes'm!" gasped Norah, who believed she was living in a dream where +everything was topsy-turvy. When had a child entered Miss Terry's +dining-room! + +Norah disappeared and presently returned ushering in a little girl of ten, +with blue eyes and yellow hair. Under her arm she carried a white-paper +package, very badly wrapped. + +Miss Terry exchanged with her brother a glance which said, "I told you so!" + +The child seemed bashful and afraid to speak; no wonder! + +Tom's kind heart yearned to her. "Good morning! Wish you a merry +Christmas, Mary!" he said smiling. + +The child gave a start. "Why, how did you know my name?" she cried. + +Tom looked confused. How indeed did he know? But Miss Angelina, with a +readiness that surprised herself, came to his rescue. + +"We were talking of a little girl named Mary," she said. "And you look just +like her. What did you come for, dear?" + +The little girl hung her head and turned crimson. + +"I--I came to see Angelina Terry," she whispered. "I--I've got a doll that +belongs to her." + +There was a pause, then Miss Terry said, "Well, go on." + +"I--I found her on the steps of this house last night, and I ought to +have brought her right here then. But I didn't. I took her home. I hope +Angelina was not very unhappy last night." + +Miss Terry smiled upon Tom, who gave a kind, low laugh. + +"No," said Miss Terry. "Angelina did not worry about her lost doll. She was +thinking about something else,--the nicest Christmas present that ever +anybody had. But you were a good girl to bring back the doll." + +"No, I'm not a good girl," said Mary, and her voice trembled. "I was a +wicked girl. I meant to keep Miranda for myself, because I thought she +would be a lovely big doll. And when I found she was old and homely, +somehow I still wanted to keep her. But it was stealing, and I couldn't. +Please, will you give her to Angelina, and tell her I am so sorry?" She +took Miranda out of the wrapping and held her toward Miss Terry without +looking at the doll. It was as if she were afraid of being tempted once +more. + +[Illustration: MARY RETURNS THE DOLL] + +Miss Terry did not take the doll. + +"I am Angelina," she said. "The doll was mine." + +"You! Angelina!" the child's face was full of bewilderment. Mechanically +she drew Miranda to her and clasped her close. + +"Yes, I am Angelina, and that was my doll Miranda," said Miss Terry gently. +"Thank you for returning her. But Mary,--your name is Mary?" The child +nodded.--"Suppose I wanted you to keep her for me, what would you say?" + +Mary's eyes still dwelt upon Miss Terry with a puzzled look. This +gray-haired Angelina was so different from the one she had pictured. She +did not answer the question. Miss Terry drew the child to a chair beside +her. + +"Tell me all about yourself, Mary," she said. + +After some coaxing and prompting from what they already guessed, Mary told +the story of her sad little life. + +She was an orphan recently left to the care of her uncle and aunt, who had +received her grudgingly. They were her sole relatives; and the shame of +their degraded lives was plain through the outlines of the vague picture +which Mary sketched of them. + +"You do not love them, Mary?" asked Miss Terry kindly. + +"No," answered the child. "They always speak crossly to me. When they have +been drinking they beat me." + +Tom rose from the table with a muttered word and began to pace the floor. +His blue eyes were full of tears. + +"Mary," said Miss Terry, "will the people at home be worried if you do not +come back to dinner?" + +Mary shook her head wonderingly. "No," she said. "They will not care. I am +often away on holidays. I go to the Museums." + +"Then I want you to stay with us to-day," said Miss Terry. "We are going +to have a Christmas celebration, and we need you for a guest. Will you +stay, you and Miranda?" + +Mary looked down at the doll in her arms, and up at the two kind faces bent +toward her. "Yes," she said impulsively, "I will stay. How good you are! I +don't want to go home." + +"Don't go home!" burst out Tom. "Stay with us always and be our little +girl." + +Mary looked from one to the other, half frightened at the new idea. Miss +Terry bent and pecked at her cheek, with a thrill at the new sensation. + +"Yes, we mean it," she said, and her voice was almost sweet. "We believe +that the Christmas Angel has brought you to us, Mary. You have the +Christmas name. But you seem to us like the little girl we both knew best, +little Angelina with blue eyes and yellow hair, who was Miranda's mother. +Will you stay with us, Mary Angelina? Would you like to stay?" + +Mary looked up with a wistful smile. "You are so good!" she said again. "I +wish I could stay. But Uncle and Aunt are so--I am afraid of what they +might do to us all. If they thought you wanted me, they would not let me +go." + +"I will fix Uncle and Aunt," said Tom, going for his coat. "Leave them to +me. I know an argument that settles uncles and aunts of that sort. You need +not go back to their house, I promise you, Mary, my dear." + +Mary gave a great sigh of relief. "Oh, I am so glad!" she said. "It was +such a wicked house. And here it is so good!" + +"Good!" Miss Terry echoed the word with a sigh. "Come with me, Mary," she +said. + +She led her little guest through the hall to the library, where a great +fire was blazing, with sundry mysterious packages in white paper piled on +the table beside it. But Miss Terry did not stop at the fire-place. She +drew Mary to the window which looked out on the sidewalk. Above the lower +sash Mary saw the remains of a burned-out Christmas candle; and over it +hung a pink papier-mâché Angel stretching out open arms towards her. + +"This is the Christmas Angel, Mary," said Miss Terry. "He is as old as +Miranda--" + +"He is as old as Christmas," interrupted Tom, looking in from the hall. + +"When we were children, Tom and I, we hung him on our Christmas tree," went +on Miss Terry. "We think he brought you to us. We believe he has changed +the world for us,--has brought us peace, good-will, and happiness. He is +going to be the guardian angel of our house. You must love him, Mary." + +"How beautiful he is!" said Mary reverently. "His face shines like the +Baby's that I saw once in the Church. Oh, Miss Angelina! He is like the +Christ-Child himself!" + +"Call me Aunt Angelina," said Miss Terry with a quick breath. + +"Aunt Angelina," cried the child, throwing her arms about Miss Terry's +neck. + +Tom came and put his great furry coat-sleeves about them both. "And Uncle +Tom," he said. + +"Dear Uncle Tom!" whispered the child shyly. + +There were tears in the eyes of all three. + +"Now we shall live happy ever after," said Tom. + +And the Christmas Angel beamed upon them. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Christmas Angel, by Abbie Farwell Brown + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL *** + +***** This file should be named 15709-8.txt or 15709-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/7/0/15709/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Elaine Walker and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/15709-8.zip b/15709-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..338fd0b --- /dev/null +++ b/15709-8.zip diff --git a/15709-h.zip b/15709-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fe0c230 --- /dev/null +++ b/15709-h.zip diff --git a/15709-h/15709-h.htm b/15709-h/15709-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..47dc16d --- /dev/null +++ b/15709-h/15709-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2554 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?> +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Christmas Angel, by Abbie Farwell Brown. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + img { border-style: none;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 65%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + hr.short {width: 45%;} + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + div.centered {text-align: center;} + div.centered table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;} + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .chapfig {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-top: + 0em; margin-right: 0em; padding: 0;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left; clear: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + .poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: 1em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Christmas Angel, by Abbie Farwell Brown + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Christmas Angel + +Author: Abbie Farwell Brown + +Release Date: April 25, 2005 [EBook #15709] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Elaine Walker and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + +<p class="figcenter"><img src="./images/cover.jpg" alt="Front Cover - The Christmas Angel by Abbie Farwell Brown" +title="Front Cover - The Christmas Angel by Abbie Farwell Brown" /></p> + +<h2>By Abbie Farwell Brown</h2> + +<hr /> + +<p>THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL. Illustrated. Square 12mo, 60 cents, <i>net</i>. +Postage extra.</p> + +<p>JOHN OF THE WOODS. Illustrated. Square 12mo, $1.25.</p> + +<p>FRESH POSIES. Illustrated. Square 8vo, $1.50.</p> + +<p>FRIENDS AND COUSINS. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.00.</p> + +<p>BROTHERS AND SISTERS. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.00.</p> + +<p>THE STAR JEWELS AND OTHER WONDERS. Illustrated. Square 12mo, $1.00.</p> + +<p>THE FLOWER PRINCESS. Illustrated. Sq. 12mo, $1.00.</p> + +<p>THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS. Illustrated. Square 12mo, $1.10, <i>net</i>. +Postpaid, $1.21.</p> + +<p>A POCKETFUL OF POSIES. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.00, <i>net</i>. Postpaid, $1.09.</p> + +<p>IN THE DAYS OF GIANTS. Illustrated, 12mo, $1.10, <i>net</i>. Postpaid, $1.21. +<i>School edition</i>, 50 cents, <i>net</i>, postpaid.</p> + +<p>THE BOOK OF SAINTS AND FRIENDLY BEASTS. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.25. +<i>School Edition</i>, 50 cents, <i>net</i>, postpaid.</p> + +<p>THE LONESOMEST DOLL. Illustrated. Sq. 12mo, 85 cents, <i>net</i>. +Postpaid, 95 cents.</p> + +<p class="center"> +HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY<br /> +<span class="smcap">Boston and New York</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="THE_CHRISTMAS_ANGEL" id="THE_CHRISTMAS_ANGEL" />THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL</h2> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/ill01.jpg" width="400" height="696" alt="YOU HANG IT ON THE TREE, ANGELINA (page 26)" title="YOU HANG IT ON THE TREE, ANGELINA (page 26)" /><br /> +<span class="caption">YOU HANG IT ON THE TREE, ANGELINA (page 26)</span> +</div> + + +<h1>THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL</h1> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>ABBIE FARWELL BROWN</h2> + +<p class="center">WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY +REGINALD BIRCH</p> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/logo.png" width="100" height="137" alt="TOVT BIEN OV RIEN" title="TOVT BIEN OV RIEN" /> +</div> + +<p class="center">BOSTON AND NEW YORK</p> + +<p class="center">HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY</p> + +<p class="center">The Riverside Press Cambridge</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Published October 1910</i></p> + +<p class="center">SECOND IMPRESSION +</p> +<hr /> + + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" width="60%"> +<tr> +<td align="right">I.</td> <td class="smcap">The Play Box</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_1'>1</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">II.</td> <td class="smcap">Jack-in-the-Box</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_8'>8</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">III.</td> <td class="smcap">The Flanton Dog</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_12'>12</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">IV.</td> <td class="smcap">Noah's Ark</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_15'>15</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">V.</td> <td class="smcap">Miranda</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_20'>20</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">VI.</td> <td class="smcap">The Christmas Angel</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_25'>25</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">VII.</td> <td class="smcap">Before the Fire</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_32'>32</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">VIII.</td> <td class="smcap">Jack Again</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_37'>37</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">IX.</td> <td class="smcap">The Dog Again</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_44'>44</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">X.</td> <td class="smcap">Noah Again</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_49'>49</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">XI.</td> <td class="smcap">Miranda Again</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_53'>53</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">XII.</td> <td class="smcap">The Angel Again</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_62'>62</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">XIII.</td> <td class="smcap">The Christmas Candle</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_68'>68</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">XIV.</td> <td class="smcap">Tom</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_73'>73</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td align="right">XV.</td> <td class="smcap">Christmas Day</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_76'>76</a></td></tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<hr /> +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> +<div class="centered"> +<table width="60%" border="0"> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">You hang it on the tree, Angelina</span> (page 26)</td><td align="right"><a href="#THE_CHRISTMAS_ANGEL"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="smcap">She looked up and down the street</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_22'>22</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="smcap"><i>Ping!</i> Out sprang the Jack-in-the-box</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_42'>42</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">Bob Cooper saves the Baby</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_46'>46</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">He grasped a railing to steady himself</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_64'>64</a></td></tr> +<tr> +<td class="smcap">Mary returns the doll</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_78'>78</a></td></tr> +</table> +</div> +<p><i>From drawings by Reginald Birch</i></p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1" />THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL</h2> + + + +<hr /> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>THE PLAY BOX</h3> + + +<p><img src="images/chasl.png" class="chapfig" alt="A" />t the sound of footsteps + along the hall Miss Terry looked up from the letter which she was reading for + the sixth time. "Of course I would not see him," she said, pursing + her lips into a hard line. "Certainly not!"</p> + +<p>A bump on the library door, as from an opposing knee, did duty for a knock.</p> + +<p>"Bring the box in here, Norah," said Miss Terry, holding open the door for +her servant, who was gasping under the weight of a packing-case. "Set it +down on the rug by the fire-place. I am going to look it over and burn up +the rubbish this evening."</p> + +<p>She glanced once more at the letter in her hand, then with a sniff tossed +it upon the fire.</p> + +<p>"Yes'm," said Norah, as she set down the box with a thump. She stooped once +more to pick up something which had fallen out when the cover was<a name="Page_2" id="Page_2" /> jarred +open. It was a pink papier-mâché angel, such as are often hung from the top +of Christmas trees as a crowning symbol. Norah stood holding it between +thumb and finger, staring amazedly. Who would think to find such a bit of +frivolity in the house of Miss Terry!</p> + +<p>Her mistress looked up from the fire, where the bit of writing was writhing +painfully, and caught the expression of Norah's face.</p> + +<p>"What have you there?" she asked, frowning, as she took the object into her +own hands. "The Christmas Angel!" she exclaimed under her breath. "I had +quite forgotten it." Then as if it burned her fingers she thrust the little +image back into the box and turned to Norah brusquely. "There, that's all. +You can go now, Norah," she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes'm," answered the maid. She hesitated. "If you please'm, it's Christmas +Eve."</p> + +<p>"Well, I believe so," snapped Miss Terry, who seemed to be in a +particularly bad humor this evening. "What do you want?"</p> + +<p>Norah flushed; but she was hardened to her mistress's manner. "Only to ask +if I may go out for a little while to see the decorations and hear the +singing."</p> + +<p>"Decorations? Singing? Fiddlestick!" retorted<a name="Page_3" id="Page_3" /> Miss Terry, poker in hand. +"What decorations? What singing?"</p> + +<p>"Why, all the windows along the street are full of candles," answered +Norah; "rows of candles in every house, to light the Christ Child on his +way when he comes through the city to-night."</p> + +<p>"Fiddlestick!" again snarled her mistress.</p> + +<p>"And choir-boys are going about the streets, they say, singing carols in +front of the lighted houses," continued Norah enthusiastically. "It must +sound so pretty!"</p> + +<p>"They had much better be at home in bed. I believe people are losing their +minds!"</p> + +<p>"Please'm, may I go?" asked Norah again.</p> + +<p>Norah had no puritanic traditions to her account. Moreover she was young +and warm and enthusiastic. Sometimes the spell of Miss Terry's sombre house +threatened her to the point of desperation. It was so this Christmas Eve; +but she made her request with apparent calmness.</p> + +<p>"Yes, go along," assented her mistress ungraciously.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, 'm," said the servant demurely, but with a brightening of her +blue eyes. And presently the area door banged behind her quick-retreating +footsteps.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_4" id="Page_4" />H'm! Didn't take her long to get ready!" muttered Miss Terry, giving the +fire a vicious poke. She was alone in the house, on Christmas Eve, and not +a man, woman, or child in the world cared. Well, it was what she wanted. It +was of her own doing. If she had wished—</p> + +<p>She sat back in her chair, with thin, long hands lying along the arms of +it, gazing into the fire. A bit of paper there was crumbling into ashes. +Alone on Christmas Eve! Even Norah had some relation with the world +outside. Was there not a stalwart officer waiting for her on the nearest +corner? Even Norah could feel a simple childish pleasure in candles and +carols and merriment, and the old, old superstition.</p> + +<p>"Stuff and nonsense!" mused Miss Terry scornfully. "What is our Christmas, +anyway? A time for shopkeepers to sell and for foolish folks to kill +themselves in buying. Christmas spirit? No! It is all humbug,—all +selfishness, and worry; an unwholesome season of unnatural activities. I am +glad I am out of it. I am glad no one expects anything of me,—nor I of any +one. I am quite independent; blessedly independent of the whole foolish +business. It is a good time to begin clearing up for the new year. I'm glad +I thought of it. I've long threatened to<a name="Page_5" id="Page_5" /> get rid of the stuff that has +been accumulating in that corner of the attic. Now I will begin."</p> + +<p>She tugged the packing-case an inch nearer the fire. It was like Miss Terry +to insist upon that nearer inch. Then she raised the cover. It was a box +full of children's battered toys, old-fashioned and quaint; the toys in +vogue thirty—forty—fifty years earlier, when Miss Terry was a child. She +gave a reminiscent sniff as she threw up the cover and saw on the under +side of it a big label of pasteboard unevenly lettered.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/playbox.png" width="500" height="204" alt="PLAY BOX OF TOM TERRY AND ANGELINA TERRY (scrawl)" title="PLAY BOX OF TOM TERRY AND ANGELINA TERRY (scrawl)" /> +</div> + +<p>"Humph!" she snorted. There was a great deal in that "humph." It meant: +Yes, Tom's name had plenty of room, while poor little Angelina had to +squeeze in as well as she could. How like Tom! This accounted for +everything, even to his not being in his sister's house this very night. +How unreasonable he had been!</p> + +<p><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6" />Miss Terry shrugged impatiently. Why think of Tom to-night? Years ago he +had deliberately cut himself adrift from her interests. No need to think of +him now. It was too late to appease her. But here were all these toys to be +got rid of. The fire was hungry for them. Why not begin?</p> + +<p>Miss Terry stooped to poke over the contents of the box with lean, long +fingers. In one corner thrust up a doll's arm; in another, an animal's tail +pointed heavenward. She caught glimpses of glitter and tinsel, wheels and +fragments of unidentifiable toys.</p> + +<p>"What rubbish!" she said. "Yes, I'll burn them all. They are good for +nothing else. I suppose some folks would try to give them away, and bore a +lot of people to death. They seem to think they are saving something, that +way. Nonsense! I know better. It is all foolishness, this craze for giving. +Most things are better destroyed as soon as you are done with them. Why, +nobody wants such truck as this. Now, could any child ever have cared for +so silly a thing?" She pulled out a faded jumping-jack, and regarded it +scornfully. "Idiotic! Such toys are demoralizing for children—weaken their +minds. It is a shame to think how every one seems bound to spoil children, +especially at Christmas time. Well, no one can say that I have added to the +shameful waste."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7" />Miss Terry tossed the poor jumping-jack on the fire, and eyed his last +contortions with grim satisfaction.</p> + +<p>But as she watched, a quaint idea came to her. She was famous for eccentric +ideas.</p> + +<p>"I will try an experiment," she said. "I will prove once for all my point +about the 'Christmas spirit.' I will drop some of these old toys out on the +sidewalk and see what happens. It may be interesting."</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8" />CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>JACK-IN-THE-BOX</h3> + + +<p><img src="images/chmsl.png" class="chapfig" alt="M" />iss Terry rose and crossed + two rooms to the front window, looking out upon the street. A flare of light + almost blinded her eyes. Every window opposite her along the block, as far as + she could see, was illuminated with a row of lighted candles across the sash. + The soft, unusual glow threw into relief the pretty curtains and wreaths of + green, and gave glimpses of cosy interiors and flitting happy figures.</p> + +<p>"What a waste of candles!" scolded Miss Terry. "Folks are growing terribly +extravagant."</p> + +<p>The street was white with snow which had fallen a few hours earlier, piled +in drifts along the curb of the little-traveled terrace. But the sidewalks +were neatly shoveled and swept clean, as became the eminently respectable +part of the city where Miss Terry lived. A long flight of steps, with iron +railing at the side, led down from the front door, upon which a silver +plate had for generations in decorous flourishes announced the name of +Terry.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9" />Miss Terry returned to the play box and drew out between thumb and finger +the topmost toy. It happened to be a wooden box, with a wire hasp for +fastening the cover. Half unconsciously she pressed the spring, and a +hideous Jack-in-the-box sprang out to confront her with a squeak, a leering +smile, and a red nose. Miss Terry eyed him with disfavor.</p> + +<p>"I always did hate that thing," she said. "Tom was continually frightening +me with it, I remember." As if to be rid of unwelcome memories she shut her +mouth tight, even as she shut Jack back into his box, snapping the spring +into place. "This will do to begin with," she thought. She crossed to the +window, which she opened quickly, and tossed out the box, so that it fell +squarely in the middle of the sidewalk. Then closing the window and turning +down the lights in the room behind her, Miss Terry hid in the folds of the +curtain and watched to see what would happen to Jack.</p> + +<p>The street was quiet. Few persons passed on either side. At last she spied +two little ragamuffins approaching. They seemed to be Jewish lads of the +newsboy class, and they eyed the display of candles appraisingly. The +smaller boy first caught sight of the box in the middle of the sidewalk.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_10" id="Page_10" />Hello! Wot's dis?" he grunted, making a dash upon it.</p> + +<p>"Gee! Wot's up?" responded the other, who was instantly at his elbow.</p> + +<p>"Gwan! Lemme look at it."</p> + +<p>The smaller boy drew away and pressed the spring of the box eagerly. +<i>Ping!</i> Out popped the Jack into his astonished face; whereupon he set up a +guffaw.</p> + +<p>"Give it here!" commanded the bigger boy.</p> + +<p>"Naw! You let it alone! It's mine!" asserted the other, edging away along +the curbstone. "I saw it first. You can't have it."</p> + +<p>"Give it here. I saw it first myself. Hand it over, or I'll smash you!"</p> + +<p>The bigger boy advanced threateningly.</p> + +<p>"I won't!" the other whimpered, clasping the box tightly under his jacket.</p> + +<p>He started to run, but the bigger fellow was too quick for him. He pounced +across the sidewalk, and soon the twain were struggling in the snowdrift, +pummeling one another with might and main.</p> + +<p>"I told you so!" commented Miss Terry from behind the curtain. "Here's the +first show of the beautiful Christmas spirit that is supposed to be abroad. +Look at the little beasts fighting over something that neither of them +really wants!"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11" />Just then Miss Terry spied a blue-coated figure leisurely approaching. At +the same moment an instinct seemed to warn the struggling urchins.</p> + +<p>"Cop!" said a muffled voice from the pile of arms and legs, and in an +instant two black shadows were flitting down the street; but not before the +bigger boy had wrenched the box from the pocket of the little chap.</p> + +<p>"So that is the end of experiment number one," quoth Miss Terry, smiling +grimly. "It happened just about as I expected. They will be fighting again +as soon as they are out of sight. They are Jews; but that doesn't make any +difference about the Christmas spirit. Now let's see what becomes of the +next experiment."</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12" />CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>THE FLANTON DOG</h3> + + +<p><img src="images/chssl.png" class="chapfig" alt="S" />he returned to the play + box by the fire, and rummaged for a few minutes among the tangled toys. Then + with something like a chuckle she drew out a soft, pale creature with four wobbly + legs.</p> + +<p>"The Flanton Dog!" she said. "Well, I vow! I had forgotten all about him. +It was Tom who coined the name for him because he was made of Canton +flannel."</p> + +<p>She stood the thing up on the table as well as his weak legs would allow, +and inspected him critically. He certainly was a forlorn specimen. One of +the black beads which had served him for eyes was gone. His ears, which had +originally stood up saucily on his head, now drooped in limp dejection. One +of them was a mere shapeless rag hanging by a thread. He was dirty and +discolored, and his tail was gone. But still he smiled with his red-thread +mouth and seemed trying to make the best of things.</p> + +<p>"What a nightmare!" said Miss Terry contempt<a name="Page_13" id="Page_13" />uously. "I know there isn't a +child in the city who wants such a looking thing. Why, even the Animal +Rescue folks would give the boys a 'free shot' at that. This isn't going to +bring out any Christmas spirit," she sneered. "I will try it and see."</p> + +<p>Once more she lifted the window and tossed the dog to the sidewalk. He +rolled upon his back and lay pathetically with crooked legs yearning +upward, still smiling. Hardly had Miss Terry time to conceal herself behind +the curtain when she saw a figure approaching, airily waving a stick.</p> + +<p>"No ragamuffin this time," she said. "Hello! It is that good-for-nothing +young Cooper fellow from the next block. They say he is a millionaire. +Well, he isn't even going to see the Flanton Dog."</p> + +<p>The young man came swinging along, debonairly; he was whistling under his +breath. He was a dapper figure in a long coat and a silk hat, under which +the candles lighted a rather silly face. When he reached the spot in the +sidewalk where the Flanton Dog lay, he paused a moment looking down. Then +he poked the object with his stick. On the other side of the street a +mother and her little boy were passing at the time. The child's eyes caught +sight of the dog on the sidewalk, and he hung back, watching to see what +the young man would do to it. But his<a name="Page_14" id="Page_14" /> mother drew him after her. Just then +an automobile came panting through the snow. With a quick movement Cooper +picked up the dog on the end of his stick and tossed it into the street, +under the wheels of the machine. The baby across the street uttered a howl +of anguish at the sight. Miss Terry herself was surprised to feel a pang +shoot through her as the car passed over the queer old toy. She retreated +from the window quickly.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's the end of Flanton," she said with half a sigh. "I knew that +fellow was a brute. I might have expected something like that. But it +looked so—so—" She hesitated for a word, and did not finish her sentence, +but bit her lip and sniffed cynically.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15" />CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>THE NOAH'S ARK</h3> + + +<p><img src="images/chnsl.png" class="chapfig" alt=""N" />ow, what comes + next?" Miss Terry rummaged in the box until her fingers met something odd-shaped, + long, and smooth-sided. With some difficulty she drew out the object, for it + was of good size.</p> + +<p>"H'm! The old Noah's ark," she said. "I wonder if all the animals are in +there."</p> + +<p>She lifted the cover, and turned out into her lap the long-imprisoned +animals and their round-bodied chief. Mrs. Noah and her sons had long since +disappeared. But the ark-builder, hatless and one-armed, still presided +over a menagerie of sorry beasts. Scarcely one could boast of being a +quadruped. To few of them the years had spared a tail. From their close +resemblance in their misery, it was not hard to believe in the kinship of +all animal life. She took them up and examined them curiously one by one. +Finally she selected a shapeless slate-colored block from the mass. "This +was the elephant," she mused. "I remember when Tom stepped on him and +smashed<a name="Page_16" id="Page_16" /> his trunk. 'I guess I'm going to be an expressman when I grow up,' +he said, looking sorry. Tom was always full of his jokes. Now I'll try this +and see what happens to the ark on its last voyage."</p> + +<p>Just then there was a noise outside. An automobile honked past, and Miss +Terry shuddered, recalling the pathetic end of the Flanton Dog, which had +given her quite a turn.</p> + +<p>"I hate those horrid machines!" she exclaimed. "They seem like Juggernaut. +I'd like to forbid their going through this street."</p> + +<p>She crowded the elephant with Noah and the rest of his charge back into the +ark and closed the lid. "I can't throw this out of the window," she +reflected. "They would spill. I must take it out on the sidewalk. Land! The +fire's going out! That girl doesn't know how to build fires so they will +keep."</p> + +<p>She laid the Noah's ark on the table, and going to the closet tugged out +several big logs, which she arranged geometrically. About laying fires, as +about most other things, Miss Terry had her own positive theories. Taking +the bellows in hand she blew furiously, and was presently rewarded with a +brisk blaze. She smiled with satisfaction, and trotted upstairs to find her +red knit shawl. With this about her shoulders she was prepared to brave the +December frost.<a name="Page_17" id="Page_17" /> Down the steps she went, and deposited the ark discreetly +at their foot; then returned to take up her position behind the curtains.</p> + +<p>There were a good many people passing, but they seemed too preoccupied to +glance down at the sidewalk. They were nearly all hurrying in one +direction. Some were running in the middle of the street.</p> + +<p>"They are in a great hurry," sniffed Miss Terry disdainfully. "One would +think they had something really important on hand. I suppose they are going +to hear the singing. Fiddlestick!"</p> + +<p>A man hastened by under the window; a woman; two children, a boy and a +girl, running and gesticulating eagerly. None of them noticed the Noah's +ark lying at the foot of the steps.</p> + +<p>Miss Terry began to grow impatient. "Are they all blind?" she fretted. +"What is the matter with them? I wish somebody would find the thing. I am +tired of seeing it lying there."</p> + +<p>She tapped the floor impatiently with her slipper. Just then a woman +approached. She was dressed in the most uncompromising of mourning, and she +walked slowly, with bent head, never glancing at the lighted windows on +either side.</p> + +<p>"She will see it," commented Miss Terry. And sure enough, she did. She +stopped at the doorstep,<a name="Page_18" id="Page_18" /> drew her skirts aside, and bent over to look at +the strange-shaped box at her feet. Finally she lifted it But immediately +she shivered and acted so strangely that Miss Terry thought she was about +to break the toy in pieces on the steps or throw it into the street. +Evidently she detested the sight of it.</p> + +<p>Just then up came a second woman with two small boys hanging at her skirts. +They were ragged and sick-looking. There was something about the expression +of even the tiny knot of hair at the back of the woman's head which told of +anxious poverty. With envious curiosity she hurried up to see what a +luckier mortal had found, crowding to look over her shoulder. The woman in +black drew haughtily away and clutched the Noah's ark with a gesture of +proprietorship.</p> + +<p>"Go away! This is my affair." Miss Terry read her expression and sniffed. +"There is the Christmas spirit coming out again," she said to herself. +"Look at her face!"</p> + +<p>The black-gowned woman prepared to move on with the toy under her arm. But +the second woman caught hold of her skirt and began to speak earnestly. She +pointed to the Noah's ark, then to her two children. Her eyes were +beseeching. The little boys crowded forward eagerly. But some wicked +spirit<a name="Page_19" id="Page_19" /> seemed to have seized the finder of the ark. Angrily she shook off +the hand of the other woman, and clutching the box yet more firmly under +her arm, she hurried away. Once, twice, she turned and shook her head at +the ragged woman who followed her. Then, with a savage gesture at the two +children, she disappeared beyond Miss Terry's straining eyes. The poor +woman and her boys followed forlornly at a distance.</p> + +<p>"They really wanted it, that old Noah's ark!" exclaimed Miss Terry in +amazement. "I can scarcely believe it. But why did that other creature keep +the thing? I see! Only because she found they cared for it. Well, that is a +happy spirit for Christmas time, I should say! Humph! I did not expect to +find anything quite so mean as <i>that!</i>"</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20" />CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>MIRANDA</h3> + + +<p><img src="images/chmsl.png" class="chapfig" alt="M" />iss Terry returned to + the fireside, fumbled in the box, and drew out a doll. She was an ugly, old-fashioned + doll, with bruised waxen face of no particular color. Her mop of flaxen hair + was straggling and uneven, much the worse for the attention of generations of + moths. She wore a faded green silk dress in the style of Lincoln's day, and + a primitive bonnet, evidently made by childish hands. She was a strange, dead-looking + figure, with pale eyelids closed, as Miss Terry dragged her from the box. But + when she was set upright the lids snapped open and a pair of bright blue eyes + looked straight into those of Miss Terry. It was so sudden that the lady nearly + gasped.</p> + +<p>"Miranda!" she exclaimed. "It is old Miranda! I have not thought of her for +years." She held the doll at arm's length, gazing fixedly at her for some +minutes.</p> + +<p>"I cannot burn her," she muttered at last. "It<a name="Page_21" id="Page_21" /> would seem almost like +murder. I don't like to throw her away, but I have vowed to get rid of +these things to-night. And I'll do it, anyway. Yes, I'll make an experiment +of her. I wonder what sort of trouble she will cause."</p> + +<p>Not even Miss Terry could think of seeing old Miranda lying exposed to the +winter night. She found a piece of paper, rolled up the doll in a neat +package, and tied it with red string. It was, to look upon, entirely a +tempting package. Once more she stole down the steps and hesitated where to +leave Miranda: not on the sidewalk,—for some reason that seemed +impossible. But near the foot of the flight of steps leading to the front +door she deposited the doll. The white package shone out plainly in the +illuminated street. There was no doubt that it would be readily seen.</p> + +<p>With a quite unexplainable interest Miss Terry watched to see what would +happen to Miranda. She waited for some time. The street seemed deserted. +Miss Terry caught the faint sound of singing. The choristers were passing +through a neighboring street, and doubtless all wayfarers within hearing of +their voices were following in their wake.</p> + +<p>She was thoroughly interested in her grim joke, but she was becoming +impatient. Were there to be<a name="Page_22" id="Page_22" /> no more passers? Must the doll stay there +unreclaimed until morning? Presently she became aware of a child's figure +drawing near. It was a little girl of about ten, very shabbily dressed, +with tangled yellow curls hanging over her shoulders. There was something +familiar about her appearance, Miss Terry could not say what it was. She +came hurrying along the sidewalk with a preoccupied air, and seemed about +to pass the steps without seeing the package lying there. But just as she +was opposite the window, her eye caught the gleam of the white paper. She +paused. She looked at it eagerly; it was such a tempting package, both as +to its size and shape! She went closer and bent down to examine it. She +took it into her bare little hands and seemed to squeeze it gently. There +is no mistaking the contours of a doll, however well it may be enveloped in +paper wrappings. The child's eyes grew more and more eager. She glanced +behind her furtively; she looked up and down the street. Then with a sudden +intuition she looked straight ahead, up the flight of steps.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/ill02.jpg" width="400" height="659" alt="SHE LOOKED UP AND DOWN THE STREET" title="SHE LOOKED UP AND DOWN THE STREET" /><br /> +<span class="caption">SHE LOOKED UP AND DOWN THE STREET</span> +</div> + +<p>Miss Terry read her mind accurately. She was thinking that probably the +doll belonged in that house; some one must have dropped the package while +going out or in. Would she ring the bell and<a name="Page_23" id="Page_23" /> return it? Miss Terry had +not thought of that possibility. But she shook her head and her lip curled. +"Return it? Of course not! Ragged children do not usually return promising +packages which they have found,—even on Christmas Eve. Look now!"</p> + +<p>Once more the child glanced stealthily behind her, up and down the street. +Once more she looked up at the dark house before her, the only black spot +in a wreath of brilliancy. She did not see the face peering at her through +the curtains, a face which scanned her own half wistfully. What was to +become of Miranda? The little girl thrust the package under her ragged coat +and ran away down the street as fast as her legs could take her.</p> + +<p>"A thief!" cried Miss Terry. "That is the climax. I have detected a child +taking what she knew did not belong to her, on Christmas Eve! Where are all +their Sunday School lessons and their social improvement classes? I knew +it! This Christmas spirit that one hears so much about is nothing but an +empty sham. I have proved it to my satisfaction to-night. I will burn the +rest of these toys, every one of them, and then go to bed. It is too +disgusting! She was a nice-looking child, too. Poor old Miranda!"</p> + +<p>With something like a sigh Miss Terry strode<a name="Page_24" id="Page_24" /> back to the fire, where the +play box stood gaping. She had made but a small inroad upon its heaped-up +treasures. She threw herself listlessly into the chair and began to pull +over the things. Broken games and animals, dolls' dresses painfully +tailored by unskilled fingers, disjointed members,—sorry relics of past +pleasures,—one by one Miss Terry seized them between disdainful thumb and +finger and tossed them into the fire. Her face showed not a qualm at +parting with these childhood treasures; only the stern sense of a good +housekeeper's duty fulfilled. With queer contortions the bits writhed on +the coals, and finally flared into dissolution, vanishing up chimney in a +shower of sparks to the heaven of spent toys.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25" />CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL</h3> + + +<p><img src="images/chasl.png" class="chapfig" alt="A" />lmost at the bottom of + the box Miss Terry's fingers closed about a small object. Once more she drew + out the papier-mâché Angel which had so excited the wonder of Norah + when once before that evening it had come to light.</p> + +<p>Miss Terry held it up and looked at it with the same expression on her +face, half tender, half contemptuous. "The Christmas Angel!" she murmured +involuntarily, as she had done before. And again there flashed through her +mind a vivid picture.</p> + +<p>It was the day before Christmas, fifty years earlier. She and her brother +Tom were trimming the Christmas tree in this very library. She saw Tom, in +a white piqué suit with short socks that were always slipping down his fat +legs. She saw herself in a white dress and blue ribbons, pouting in a +corner. They had been quarreling about the Christmas tree, disputing as to +which of them should light the first candle when the time arrived. Then +their mother<a name="Page_26" id="Page_26" /> came to them smiling, a sweet-faced lady who seemed not to +notice the red faces and the tears. She put something into Tom's hand +saying, "This is the Christmas Angel of peace and good-will. Hang it on the +tree, children, so that it may shed a blessing on all who come here to give +and to receive."</p> + +<p>How lovely and pink it looked in Tom's hand! Little Angelina had thought it +the most beautiful thing she had ever seen,—and holy, too, as if it had +some blessed charm. Fiddlestick! What queer fancies children have! Miss +Terry remembered how a strange thrill had crept through Angelina as she +gazed at it. Then she and Tom looked at each other and were ashamed of +their quarrel. Suddenly Tom held out the Angel to his sister. "You hang it +on the tree, Angelina," he said magnanimously. "I know you want to."</p> + +<p>But she—little fool!—she too had a fit of generosity.</p> + +<p>"No, you hang it, Tom. You're taller," she said.</p> + +<p>"I'll hang it at the very top of the tree!" he replied, nothing loath. +Eagerly he mounted the step-ladder, while Angelina watched him enviously, +thinking how clumsy he was, and how much better she could do it.</p> + +<p>How funny and fat Tom had looked on top of the<a name="Page_27" id="Page_27" /> ladder, reaching as high as +he dared! The ladder began to wobble, and he balanced precariously, while +Angelina clutched at his fat ankles with a scream of fright. But Tom +said:—</p> + +<p>"Ow! Angelina, let go my ankles! You hurt! Now don't scream. I shan't fall. +Don't you know that this is the Christmas Angel, and he will never let me +get hurt on Christmas Eve?"</p> + +<p>Swaying wildly on one toe Tom had clutched at the air, at the tree +itself,—anywhere for support. Yet, almost as if by a miracle, he did not +fall. And the Christmas Angel was looking down from the very top of the +tree.</p> + +<p>Miss Terry laid the little pink figure in her lap and mused. "Mother was +wise!" she sighed. "She knew how to settle our quarrels in those days. +Perhaps if she had still been here things would have gone differently. Tom +might not have left me for good. <i>For good.</i>" She emphasized the words with +a nod as if arguing against something.</p> + +<p>Again she took up the Christmas Angel and looked earnestly at it. Could it +be that tears were glistening in her eyes? Certainly not! With a sudden +sniff and jerk of the shoulders she leaned forward, holding the Angel +towards the fire. This should follow the other useless toys. But something<a name="Page_28" id="Page_28" /> +seemed to stay her hand. She drew back, hesitated, then rose to her feet.</p> + +<p>"I can't burn it," she said. "It's no use, I can't burn it. But I don't +want to see the thing around. I will put this out on the sidewalk, too. +Possibly this may be different and do some good to somebody."</p> + +<p>She wrapped the shawl about her shoulders and once more ran down the steps. +She left the Angel face upward in the middle of the sidewalk, and retreated +quickly to the house. As she opened the door to enter, she caught the +distant chorus of fresh young voices singing in a neighboring square:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span>"Angels from the realms of glory,<br /></span> +<span>Wing your flight o'er all the earth."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>When she took her place behind the curtain she was trembling a little, she +could not guess why. But now she watched with renewed eagerness. What was +to be the fate of the Christmas Angel? Would he fall into the right hands +and be hung upon some Christmas tree ere morning? Would he—</p> + +<p>Miss Terry held her breath. A man was staggering along the street toward +her. He whistled noisily a vulgar song, as he reeled from curb to railing, +threatening to fall at every step. A drunken man on Christmas Eve! Miss +Terry felt a great loathing for<a name="Page_29" id="Page_29" /> him. He was at the foot of the steps now. +He was close upon the Angel. Would he see it, or would he tread upon it in +his disgusting blindness?</p> + +<p>Yes—no! He saw the little pink image lying on the bricks, and with a lurch +forward bent to examine it. Miss Terry flattened her nose against the pane +eagerly. She expected to see him fall upon the Angel bodily. But no; he +righted himself with a whoop of drunken mirth.</p> + +<p>"Angel!" she heard him croak with maudlin accent. "Pink Angel, begorrah! +What doin' 'ere, eh? Whoop! Go back to sky, Angel!" and lifting a brutal +foot he kicked the image into the street. Then with a shriek of laughter he +staggered away out of sight.</p> + +<p>Miss Terry found herself trembling with indignation. The idea! He had +kicked the Christmas Angel,—the very Angel that Tom had hung on their +tree! It was sacrilege, or at least—Fiddlestick! Miss Terry's mind was +growing confused. She had a sudden impulse to rescue the toy from being +trampled into filthiness. The fire was better than that.</p> + +<p>She hurried down the steps into the street, forgetting her shawl. She +sought in the snow and snatched the pink morsel to safety. Straight to the +fire she carried it, and once more held it to the<a name="Page_30" id="Page_30" /> flames. But again she +found it impossible to burn the thing. Once, twice, she tried. But each +time something seemed to clutch back her wrist. At last she shrugged +impatiently and laid the Angel on the mantelpiece beside the square old +marble clock, which marked the hour of half-past eight.</p> + +<p>"Well, I won't burn it to-night," she reflected. "Somehow, I can't do it +just now. I don't see what has got into me! But to-morrow I will. Yes, +to-morrow I will."</p> + +<p>She sat down in the armchair and fumbled in the old play box for the +remaining scraps. There were but a few meaningless bits of ribbon and +gauze, with the end of a Christmas candle, the survivor of some past +festival, burned on some tree in the past. All these but the last she +tossed into the fire, where they made a final protesting blaze. The +candle-end fell to the floor unnoticed.</p> + +<p>"There! That is the last of the stuff," she exclaimed with grim +satisfaction, shaking the dust from her black silk skirt. "It is all gone +now, thank Heaven, and I can go to bed in peace. No, I forgot Norah. I +suppose I must sit up and wait for her. Bother the girl! She ought to be in +by now. What can she find to amuse her all this time? Christmas Eve! +Fiddlestick! But I have got rid<a name="Page_31" id="Page_31" /> of a lot of rubbish to-night, and that is +worth something."</p> + +<p>She sank back in her chair and clasped her hands over her breast with a +sigh. She felt strangely weary. Her eyes sought the clock once more, and +doing so rested upon the Christmas Angel lying beside it. She frowned and +closed her eyes to shut out the sight with its haunting memories and +suggestions——</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32" />CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>BEFORE THE FIRE</h3> + + +<p><img src="images/chssl.png" class="chapfig" alt="S" />uddenly there was a volume of sound outside, and a great brightness filled +the room. Miss Terry opened her eyes. The fire was burning red; but a +yellow light, as from thousands of candles, shone in at the window, and +there was the sound of singing,—the sweetest singing that Miss Terry had +ever heard.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span>"An Angel of the Lord came down,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And glory shone around."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The words seemed chanted by the voices of young angels. Miss Terry passed +her hands over her eyes and glanced at the clock. But what the hour was she +never noticed, for her gaze was filled with something else. Beside the +clock, in the spot where she had laid it a few minutes before, was the +Christmas Angel. But now, instead of lying helplessly on its back, it was +standing on rosy feet, with arms outstretched toward her. Over its head +fluttered gauzy wings. From under the yellow hair which rippled over<a name="Page_33" id="Page_33" /> the +shoulders two blue eyes beamed kindly upon her, and the mouth widened into +the sweetest smile.</p> + +<p>"Peace on earth to men of good-will!" cried the Angel, and the tone of his +speech was music, yet quite natural and thrilling.</p> + +<p>Miss Terry stared hard at the Angel and rubbed her eyes, saying to herself, +"Fiddlestick! I am dreaming!"</p> + +<p>But she could not rub away the vision. When she opened her eyes the Angel +still stood tiptoe on the mantel-shelf, smiling at her and shaking his +golden head.</p> + +<p>"Angelina!" said the Angel softly; and Miss Terry trembled to hear her name +thus spoken for the first time in years. "Angelina, you do not want to +believe your own eyes, do you? But I am real; more real than the things you +see every day. You must believe in me. I am the Christmas Angel."</p> + +<p>"I know it." Miss Terry's voice was hoarse and unmanageable, as of one in a +nightmare. "I remember."</p> + +<p>"You remember!" repeated the Angel. "Yes; you remember the day when you and +Tom hung me on the Christmas tree. You were a sweet little girl then, with +blue eyes and yellow curls. You believed the Christmas story and loved +Santa Claus. Then<a name="Page_34" id="Page_34" /> you were simple and affectionate and generous and +happy."</p> + +<p>"Fiddlestick!" Miss Terry tried to say. But the word would not come.</p> + +<p>"Now you have lost the old belief and the old love," went on the Angel. +"Now you have studied books and read wise men's sayings. You understand the +higher criticism, and the higher charity, and the higher egoism. You don't +believe in mere giving. You don't believe in the Christmas economics,—you +know better. But are you happy, dear Angelina?"</p> + +<p>Again Miss Terry thrilled at the sound of her name so sweetly spoken; but +she answered nothing. The Angel replied for her.</p> + +<p>"No, you are not happy because you have cut yourself off from the things +that bring folk together in peace and good-will at this holy time. Where +are your friends? Where is your brother to-night? You are still hard and +unforgiving to Tom. You refused to see him to-day, though he wrote so +boyishly, so humbly and affectionately. You have not tried to make any soul +happy. You don't believe in <i>me</i>, the Christmas Spirit."</p> + +<p>There is such a word as Fiddlestick, whatever it may mean. But Miss Terry's +mind and tongue were unable to form it.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_35" id="Page_35" />The Christmas spirit!" continued the Angel. "What is life worth if one +cannot believe in the Christmas spirit?"</p> + +<p>With a powerful effort Miss Terry shook off her nightmare sufficiently to +say, "The Christmas spirit is no real thing. I have proved it to-night. It +is not real. It is a humbug!"</p> + +<p>"Not real? A humbug?" repeated the Angel softly. "And you have proved it, +Angelina, this very night?"</p> + +<p>Miss Terry nodded.</p> + +<p>"I know what you have done," said the Angel. "I know very well. How keen +you were! How clever! You made a test of Chance, to prove your point."</p> + +<p>Again Miss Terry nodded with complacency.</p> + +<p>"What knowledge of the world! What grasp of human nature!" commented the +Angel, smiling. "It is like you mere mortals to say, 'I will make my test +in my own way. If certain things happen, I shall foresee what the result +must be. If certain other things happen, I shall know that I am right.' +Events fall out as you expect, and you smile with satisfaction, feeling +your wisdom justified. It ought to make you happy. But does it?"</p> + +<p>Miss Terry regarded the Angel doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_36" id="Page_36" />Look now!" he went on, holding up a rosy finger. "You are so +near-sighted! You are so unimaginative! You do not dream beyond the thing +you see. You judge the tale finished while the best has yet to be told. And +you stake your faith, your hope, your charity upon this blind human +judgment,—which is mere Chance!"</p> + +<p>Miss Terry opened her lips to say, "I saw—" but the Angel interrupted her.</p> + +<p>"You saw but the beginning," he said. "You saw but the first page of each +history. Shall I turn over the leaves and let you read what really +happened? Shall I help you to see the whole truth instead of a part? On +this night holy Truth, which is of Heaven, comes for all men to see and to +believe. Look!"</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37" />CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>JACK AGAIN</h3> + + +<p><img src="images/chtsl.png" class="chapfig" alt="T" />he Christmas Angel gently waved his hand to and fro. Gradually, as Miss +Terry sat back in her chair, the library grew dark; or rather, things faded +into an indistinguishable blur. Then it seemed as if she were sitting at a +theatre gazing at a great stage. But at this theatre there was nothing +about her, nothing between her and the place where things were happening.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>First she saw two little ragamuffins quarreling over something in the snow. +She recognized them. They were the two Jewish boys who had picked up the +Jack-in-the-box. An officer appeared, and they ran away, the bigger boy +having possession of the toy; the smaller one with fists in his eyes, +bawling with disappointment.</p> + +<p>Miss Terry's lips curled with the cynical disgust which she had felt when +first witnessing this scene. But a sweet voice—and she knew it was<a name="Page_38" id="Page_38" /> the +Angel's—whispered in her ear, "Wait and see!"</p> + +<p>She watched the two boys run through the streets until they came to a dark +corner. There the little fellow caught up with the other, and once more the +struggle began. It was a hard and bloody fight. But this time the victory +was with the smaller lad, who used his fists and feet like an enraged +animal, until the other howled for mercy and handed over the disputed toy.</p> + +<p>"Whatcher want it fer, Sam?" he blubbered as he saw it go into the little +fellow's pocket.</p> + +<p>"Mind yer own business! I just want it," answered Sam surlily.</p> + +<p>"Betcher I know," taunted the bigger boy.</p> + +<p>"Betcher yer don't."</p> + +<p>"Do!"</p> + +<p>"Don't!"</p> + +<p>Another fight seemed imminent. But wisdom prevailed with Sammy. He would +not challenge fate a third time. "Come on, then, and see," he grunted.</p> + +<p>And Ike followed. Off the two trudged, through the brilliantly lighted +streets, until they came to a part of the city where the ways were narrower +and dark.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_39" id="Page_39" />Huh! Knowed you was comin' here," commented Ike as they turned into a +grim, dirty alley.</p> + +<p>Little Sam growled, "Didn't!" apparently as a matter of habit.</p> + +<p>"Did!" reasserted Ike. "Just where I was comin' myself."</p> + +<p>Sam turned to him with a grin.</p> + +<p>"Was yer now? By—! Ain't that funny? I thought of it right off."</p> + +<p>"Sure. Same here!"</p> + +<p>They both burst into a guffaw and executed an impromptu double-shuffle of +delight. They were at the door of a tenement house with steep stairs +leading into darkness. Up three flights pounded the two pairs of heavy +boots, till they reached a half-open door, whence issued the clatter of a +sewing-machine and the voices of children. Sam stood on the threshold +grinning debonairly, with hands thrust into his pockets. Ike peered over +his shoulder, also grinning.</p> + +<p>It was a meagre room into which they gazed, a room the chief furniture of +which seemed to be babies. Two little ones sprawled on the floor. A third +tiny tot lay in a broken-down carriage beside the door. A pale, ill-looking +woman was running the machine. On the cot bed was crumpled a fragile<a name="Page_40" id="Page_40" /> +little fellow of about five, and a small pair of crutches lay across the +foot of the bed.</p> + +<p>When the two boys appeared in the doorway, the woman stopped her machine +and the children set up a howl of pleasure. "Sammy! Ikey!" cried the woman, +smiling a wan welcome, as the babies crept and toddled toward the +newcomers. "Where ye come from?"</p> + +<p>"Been to see the shops and the lights in the swell houses," answered Sammy +with a grimace. "Gee! Ain't they wastin' candles to beat the cars!"</p> + +<p>"Enough to last a family a whole year," muttered Ike with disgust.</p> + +<p>The woman sighed. "Maybe they ain't wasted exactly," she said. "How I'd +like to see 'em! But I got to finish this job. I told the chil'ren they +mustn't expect anything this Christmas. But they are too little to know the +difference anyway; all but Joe. I wish I had something for Joe."</p> + +<p>"I got something for Joe," said Sammy unexpectedly.</p> + +<p>The face of the pale little cripple lighted.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" he asked eagerly. "Oh, what is it? A real Christmas present +for me?"</p> + +<p>"Naw! It ain't a Christmas present," said Sam.</p> + +<p>"We don't care anything about Christmas," volunteered Ikey with a grin.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41" />Sam looked at him with a frown of rebuke.</p> + +<p>"It's just a <i>present</i>," he said. "And it didn't cost a cent. I didn't buy +it. I—we found it!"</p> + +<p>"Found it in the street?" Joe's eyes shone.</p> + +<p>"Yah!" the boys nodded.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it <i>is</i> a Christmas present!" cried Joe. "Santa Claus must have +dropped it there for me, because he knew we hadn't any chimney in this +house, and he sent you kind, kind boys to bring it to me."</p> + +<p>The two urchins looked sideways at each other, but said nothing. Presently +Sam drew out the box from his pocket and tried to thrust it into Ike's +hand. "You give it to 'um," he said. "You're the biggest."</p> + +<p>"Naw! You give it. You found it," protested Ike.</p> + +<p>"Ah, g'wan!"</p> + +<p>"Big fool!"</p> + +<p>There was a tussle, and it almost seemed as if the past unpleasantness was +to be repeated from an opposite cause. But Joe's voice settled the dispute.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Sammy, please!" he cried. "I can't wait another minute. Do please give +it to me now!"</p> + +<p>At these words Sam stepped forward without further argument and laid the +box on the bed in front of the little cripple. The babies crowded about. +The<a name="Page_42" id="Page_42" /> mother left her machine and stood smiling faintly at the foot of the +bed.</p> + +<p>Joe pressed the spring. <i>Ping!</i> Out sprang the Jack-in-the-box, with the +same red nose, the same leer, the same roguish eyes which had surprised the +children of fifty years ago.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/ill03.jpg" width="386" height="629" alt="PING! OUT SPRANG THE JACK-IN-THE-BOX" title="PING! OUT SPRANG THE JACK-IN-THE-BOX" /> +<br /><span class="caption">PING! OUT SPRANG THE JACK-IN-THE-BOX</span> +</div> + +<p>Jack was always sure of his audience. My! How they screamed and begged Joe +to "do it again." And as for Joe, he lay back on his pillow and laughed and +laughed as though he would never stop. It was the first Jack any of them +had seen.</p> + +<p>Tears stood in the mother's eyes. "Well," she said, "it's as good as a play +to see him. Joe hasn't laughed like that for months. You boys have done him +lots of good. I wouldn't wonder if it helped him get well! If you was +Christians I'd say you showed the real Christmas spirit. But Lord—perhaps +ye do, all the same! I dunno!"</p> + +<p>Sam and Ike were so busy playing with the children that they did not hear.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Gradually the tenement house faded and became a blur before Miss Terry's +eyes. Once more she saw the mantel-shelf before her and the Christmas Angel +with outstretched arms waving to and fro. "You see!" he said. "You did not +guess all the plea<a name="Page_43" id="Page_43" />sure that was shut up in that box with old Jack, did +you?"</p> + +<p>Miss Terry shook her head.</p> + +<p>"And you see how different it all was from what you thought. Now let us see +what became of the Canton-flannel dog."</p> + +<p>"The Flanton Dog." Miss Terry amended the phrase under her breath. It +seemed so natural to use Tom's word.</p> + +<p>"Yes, the Flanton Dog," the Angel smiled. "What do you think became of +him?"</p> + +<p>"I saw what became of him," said Miss Terry. "Bob Cooper threw him under an +automobile, and he was crushed flatter than a pancake."</p> + +<p>"Then you left the window," said the Angel. "In your human way you assumed +that this was the end. But wait and see."</p> + +<p>Once more the room darkened and blurred, and Miss Terry looked out upon +past events as upon a busy, ever-shifting stage.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44" />CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>THE DOG AGAIN</h3> + + +<p><img src="images/chssl.png" class="chapfig" alt="S" />he saw the snowy street, into which, from the tip of his stick, Bob Cooper +had just tossed the Flanton Dog. She saw, what she had not seen before, the +woman and child on the opposite side of the street. She saw the baby +stretch out wistful hands after the dog lying in the snow. Then an +automobile honked past, and she felt again the thrill of horror as it ran +over the poor old toy. At the same moment the child screamed, and she saw +it point tearfully at the Flanton tragedy. The mother, who had seen nothing +of all this, stooped and spoke to him reprovingly.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Johnnie?" she said. "Sh! Don't make such a noise. Here +we are at Mrs. Wales's gate, and you mustn't make a fuss. Now be a good boy +and wait here till Mother comes out."</p> + +<p>She rang the area bell and stood basket in hand, waiting to be admitted. +But Johnnie gazed at one spot in the street, with eyes full of tears, and +with<a name="Page_45" id="Page_45" /> now and then a sob gurgling from his throat. He could not forget what +he had seen.</p> + +<p>The door opened for the mother, who disappeared inside the house, with one +last command to the child: "Now be a good boy, Johnnie. I'll be back in +half a minute."</p> + +<p>Hardly was she out of sight when Johnnie started through the snowdrift +toward the middle of the street. With difficulty he lifted his little legs +out of the deep snow; now and then he stumbled and fell into the soft mass. +But he rose only the more determined upon his errand, and kept his eyes +fixed on the wreck of the Flanton Dog.</p> + +<p>Bob Cooper, who was idly strolling up and down the block, smoking a +cigarette, as he watched the flitting girlish shadows in a certain window +opposite, saw the child's frantic struggles in the snow and was intensely +amused. "Bah Jove!" he chuckled. "I believe he's after the wretched dawg +that I tossed over there with my stick. Fahncy it!" And carelessly he +puffed a whiff of smoke.</p> + +<p>At last the baby reached the middle of the street and stooped to pick up +the battered toy. It was flattened and shapeless, but the child clasped it +tenderly and began to coo softly to it.</p> + +<p>"Bah Jove!" repeated Cooper. "Fahncy caring<a name="Page_46" id="Page_46" /> so much about anything! Poor +kid! Perhaps that is all the Christmas he will have." He blew a thoughtful +puff through his nose. "Christmas Eve!" The thought flashed through his +mind with a new appeal.</p> + +<p>Just then came a sudden "<i>Honk, honk!</i>" An automobile had turned the corner +and was coming up at full speed. It was the same machine which had passed a +few minutes earlier in the opposite direction.</p> + +<p>"Hi there!" Cooper yelled to the child. But the latter was sitting in the +snow in the middle of the street, rocking back and forth, with the Flanton +Dog in his arms. There was scarcely time for action. Bob dropped his +cigarette and his cane, made one leap into the street and another to the +child, and by the impact of his body threw the baby into the drift at the +curb. With a horrified <i>honk</i> the automobile passed over the young man, who +lay senseless in the snow.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/ill04.jpg" width="400" height="635" alt="BOB COOPER SAVES THE BABY" title="BOB COOPER SAVES THE BABY" /> +<br /><span class="caption">BOB COOPER SAVES THE BABY</span> +</div> + +<p>He was not killed. Miss Terry saw him taken to his home close by, where his +broken leg was set and his bruises attended to. She saw him lying bandaged +and white on his bed when the woman and her child were brought to see him. +Johnnie was still clasping closely the unlucky Flanton Dog.</p> + +<p>"Well, Kid," said the young man feebly, "so you saved the dog, after all."</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_47" id="Page_47" />O sir!" cried the poor woman, weeping. "Only to think that he would not +be here now but for you. What a Christmas that would have been for me! You +were so good, so brave!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, rot!" protested Bob faintly. "Had to do it; my fault anyway; Christmas +Eve,—couldn't see a kid hurt on Christmas Eve."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"It was my fault, because I put the dog in the way. I caused all that +trouble."</p> + +<p>"Trouble?" said the Angel, puzzled. "Do you call it <i>trouble?</i> Do you not +see what it has done<a name="Page_48" id="Page_48" /> 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 <i>you</i> +did it?" He laughed knowingly.</p> + +<p>"I certainly did," said Miss Terry firmly.</p> + +<p>"But it was I, yes <i>I</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."</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49" />CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>NOAH AGAIN</h3> + + +<p><img src="images/chisl.png" class="chapfig" alt="I" />n 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"No, you shall not have it," she cried, clutching the Noah's ark fiercely. +"I will destroy it."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50" />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.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, somewhere, a chorus of happy voices began to sing the words of an +old carol:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span>"Holy night! Peaceful night!<br /></span> +<span>All is dark save the light,<br /></span> +<span>Yonder where they sweet vigil keep,<br /></span> +<span>O'er the Babe who in silent sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Rests in heavenly peace."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The woman gave a great sob. Her little lad had been a choir boy,—perhaps +these were his one-time<a name="Page_51" id="Page_51" /> comrades. The second verse of the carol rang out +sweetly:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span>"Holy night! Peaceful night!<br /></span> +<span>Only for shepherds' sight<br /></span> +<span>Came blest visions of angel throngs,<br /></span> +<span>With their loud Hallelujah songs,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Saying, Jesus is come!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>"Here," she said, thrusting the Noah's ark into the hands of the larger +boy. "Take it. It belongs to you."</p> + +<p>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?"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52" />The woman shook her head. "I have nothing," she sighed. "A roof over our +heads, that's all."</p> + +<p>"Your husband?"</p> + +<p>"My man died a month ago."</p> + +<p>So other folk had raw sorrows, too. The mourner had forgotten that.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>The woman and her sons followed her, rejoicing greatly in the midst of +their wonder.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"You see!" was all he said. And Miss Terry bowed her head. She began to +understand.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53" />CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>MIRANDA AGAIN</h3> + + +<p><img src="images/chosl.png" class="chapfig" alt="O" />nce 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.</p> + +<p>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<a name="Page_54" id="Page_54" /> in the neighborhood with which +she was more familiar.</p> + +<p>She pinched the package gently. Yes, there could be no doubt about it. It +was a doll,—not a very large doll; but Mary reflected that she had never +thought she should care for a large doll. Undoubtedly it was a very nice +one. Had she not found it in a swell part of the city, on the steps of a +swell-looking house? Mary gloated over the doll as she fancied it; with +real hair, and eyes that opened and shut; with four little white teeth, and +hands with dimples in the knuckles. She had seen such dolls in the windows +of the big shops. But she had never hoped to have one for her very own.</p> + +<p>"Maybe it will have on a blue silk dress and white kid shoes, like that one +I saw this morning!" she mused rapturously.</p> + +<p>She pinched the spot where she fancied the doll's feet ought to be.</p> + +<p>"Yes, she's got shoes, sure enough! I bet they're white, too. They <i>feel</i> +white. Oh, what fun I shall have with her,"—she hugged the doll +fondly,—"if Uncle and Aunt don't take her away!"</p> + +<p>The sudden thought made her stand still in horror. "They sold Mother's +little clock for rum," she said bitterly. "They sold the ring with the red +stone<a name="Page_55" id="Page_55" /> that Father gave me on my birthday when I was seven. They sold the +presents that I got at Sunday School last year. Oh, wouldn't it be dreadful +if they should sell my new doll! And I know they will want to if they see +her." She squeezed the bundle closer with the prescient pang of parting.</p> + +<p>"Maybe they'll be out somewhere." With this faint hope she reached the +tenement and crept up the dingy stairs. She peeped in at the door. Alas! +Her uncle and aunt were in the kitchen, through which she had to pass. They +had company; some dirty-looking men and women, and there were a jug and +glasses on the table before them. Mary's heart sank, but she nodded bravely +to the company and tried to slip through the crowd to the other room. But +her aunt was quick to see that she carried something under her coat.</p> + +<p>"What you got there? A Christmas present?" she sneered.</p> + +<p>Mary flushed. "No," she said slowly, "just something I found."</p> + +<p>"Found? Hello, what is it? A package!"</p> + +<p>Her uncle advanced and snatched it from her.</p> + +<p>"Please," pleaded Mary, "please, I found it. It is mine. I think it is only +a doll."</p> + +<p>"A doll! Huh! Who needs a doll?" hiccoughed<a name="Page_56" id="Page_56" /> her uncle. "We want something +more to drink. We'll sell it—"</p> + +<p>A bellow of laughter resounded through the room. The paper being torn +roughly away, poor Miranda stood revealed in all her faded beauty. The +pallid waxen face, straggling hair, and old-fashioned dress presented a +sorry sight to the greedy eyes which had expected to find something +exchangeable for drink. A sorry sight she was to Mary, who had hoped for +something so much lovelier. A flush of disappointment came into her cheek, +and tears to her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Here, take your old doll," said her uncle roughly, thrusting it into her +arms. "Take your old doll and get away with her. If that's the best you can +find you'd better <i>steal</i> something next time."</p> + +<p>Steal something! Had she not in fact stolen it? Mary knew very well that +she had, and she flushed pinker yet to think what a fool she had made of +herself for nothing. She took the despised doll and retreated into the +other room, followed by a chorus of jeers and comments. She banged the door +behind her and sat down with poor Miranda on her knees, crying as if her +heart would break. She had so longed for a beautiful doll! It did seem too +cruel that when she found one it should turn out to be so ugly. She seized +poor Miranda and shook her fiercely.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_57" id="Page_57" />You horrid old thing!" she said. "Ain't you ashamed to fool me so? Ain't +you ashamed to make me think you was a lovely doll with pretty clo'es and +<i>white kid shoes?</i> Ain't you?"</p> + +<p>She shook Miranda again until her eyeballs rattled in her head. The doll +fell to the floor and lay there with closed eyes. Her face was pallid and +ghastly. Her bonnet had fallen off, and her hair stuck out wildly in every +direction. Her legs were doubled under her in the most helpless fashion. +She was the forlornest figure of a doll imaginable. Presently Mary drew her +hands away from her eyes and looked down at Miranda. There was something in +the doll's attitude as she lay there which touched the little girl's heart. +Once she had seen a woman who had been injured in the street,—she would +never forget it. The poor creature's eyes had been closed, and her face, +under the fallen bonnet, was of this same pasty color. Mary shuddered. +Suddenly she felt a warm rush of pity for the doll.</p> + +<p>"You poor old thing!" she exclaimed, looking at Miranda almost tenderly. +"I'm sorry I shook you. You look so tired and sad and homesick! I wonder if +somebody is worrying about you this minute. It was very wicked of me to +take you away—on Christmas Eve, too! I wish I had left you<a name="Page_58" id="Page_58" /> where I found +you. Maybe some little girl is crying now because you are lost."</p> + +<p>Mary stooped and lifted the doll gently upon her knees. As she took Miranda +up, the blue eyes opened and seemed to look full at her. Miranda's one +beauty was her eyes. Mary felt her heart grow warmer and warmer toward the +quaint stranger.</p> + +<p>"You have lovely eyes," she murmured. "I think after all you are almost +pretty. Perhaps I should grow to like you awfully. You are not a bit like +the doll I hoped to have; but that is not your fault." A thought made her +face brighten. "Why, if you had been a beautiful doll they would have taken +you away and sold you for rum." Her face expressed utter disgust. She +hugged Miranda close with a sudden outburst of affection. "Oh, you dear old +thing!" she cried. "I am so glad you are—just like this. I am so glad, for +now I can keep you always and always, and no one will want to take you away +from me."</p> + +<p>She rocked to and fro, holding the doll tightly to her heart. Mary was not +one to feel a half-passion about anything. "I will make you some new +dresses," she said, fingering the old-fashioned silk with a puzzled air. "I +wonder why your mother dressed you so queerly? She was not much of a sewer +if she made<a name="Page_59" id="Page_59" /> this bonnet!" Scornfully she took off the primitive bonnet and +smoothed out the tangled hair. "I wonder what you have on underneath," she +said.</p> + +<p>With gentle fingers she began to undress Miranda. Off came the green silk +dress with its tight "basque" and overskirt. Off came the ruffled petticoat +and little chemise edged with fine lace. And Miranda stood in shapeless, +kid-bodied ugliness, which stage of evolution the doll of her day had +reached.</p> + +<p>But there was something more. Around her neck she wore a ribbon; on the +ribbon was a cardboard medal; and on the medal a childish hand had +scratched the legend,—</p> + +<p class="center"> +<i>Miranda Terry.</i><br /> +If lost, please return her to her mother,<br /> +<i>Angelina Terry</i>,<br /> +87 Overlook Terrace.<br /> +</p> + +<p>It was such a card as Miss Terry herself had worn in the days when her +mother had first let her and Tom go out on the street without a nurse.</p> + +<p>Mary stared hard at the bit of cardboard. 87 Overlook Terrace! Yes, that +was where she had found the doll. She remembered now seeing the name on a +street corner. <i>Miranda;</i> what a pretty name for a doll! <i>Angelina Terry;</i> +so that was the<a name="Page_60" id="Page_60" /> name of the little girl who had lost Miranda. Angelina +must be feeling very sorry now. Perhaps she was crying herself to sleep, +for it was growing late.</p> + +<p>Her two girl cousins came romping into the bedroom. They had been having a +hilarious evening.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Mary!" they cried. "We heard about your great find!"—"Playing with +your old doll, are you? Goin' to hang up her stockin' and see if Santa +Claus will fill it?"—"Huh! Santa Claus won't come to <i>this</i> house, I +guess!"</p> + +<p>Mary had almost forgotten that it was Christmas Eve. There had been nothing +in the house to remind her. Perhaps Angelina Terry had hung up a stocking +for Miranda at 87 Overlook Terrace. But there would be no Miranda to see it +the next morning.</p> + +<p>Her cousins teased her for some time, while they undressed, and Mary grew +sulky. She sat in her corner and answered them shortly. But presently the +room was quiet, for the girls slept easily. Then Mary crept into her little +cot with the doll in her arms. She loved Miranda so much that she would +never part with her, no indeed; not even though she now knew where Miranda +belonged. 87 Overlook Terrace! The figures danced before her eyes +maliciously. She wished she could forget them. And the thought of Angelina +Terry kept coming to her. Poor Angelina!<a name="Page_61" id="Page_61" /></p> + +<p>"She ain't 'poor Angelina,'" argued Mary to herself. "She's <i>rich</i> +Angelina. Doesn't she live in a big house in the swell part of the city? I +s'pose she has hundreds of dolls, much handsomer than Miranda, and lots of +other toys. I guess she won't miss this one queer old doll. I guess she'd +let me keep it if she knew I hadn't any of my own. I guess it ought to be +my doll. Anyway, I'm going to keep her. I don't believe Angelina loves +Miranda so much as I do."</p> + +<p>She laid her cheek against the doll's cold waxen one and presently fell +asleep.</p> + +<p>But she slept uneasily. In the middle of the night she awoke and lay for +hours tossing and unhappy in the stuffy little room. The clock struck one, +two, three. At last she gave a great sigh, and cuddling Miranda in her arms +turned over, with peace in her heart.</p> + +<p>"I will play you are mine, my very own dollie, for just this one night," +she whispered in Miranda's ear. "To-morrow will be Christmas Day, and I +will take you back to your little mother, Angelina Terry. I can't do a mean +thing at Christmas time,—not even for you, dear Miranda."</p> + +<p>Thereupon she fell into a peaceful sleep.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62" />CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>THE ANGEL AGAIN</h3> + + +<p><img src="images/chwsl.png" class="chapfig" alt=""W" />ill she bring it back?" asked Miss Terry eagerly, when once more she +found herself under the gaze of the Christmas Angel. He nodded brightly.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow morning you will see," he said. "It will prove that all I have +shown you is really true."</p> + +<p>"A pretty child," said Miss Terry musingly. "A very nice child indeed. I +believe she looks very much as I used to be myself."</p> + +<p>"You see, she is not a thief, after all; not <i>yet</i>," said the Angel. "What +a pity that she must live in that sad home, with such terrible people! A +sensitive child like her, craving sympathy and affection,—what chance has +she for happiness? What would you yourself have been in surroundings like +hers?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, she is very like what I was. Of course I shall let her keep the +doll."</p> + +<p>Miss Terry hesitated. The Angel looked at her steadily and his glance +seemed to read her half-formed thoughts.</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_63" id="Page_63" />Surely," he said. "It seems to belong to her, does it not? But is this +all? I wonder if something more does not belong to her."</p> + +<p>"What more?" asked Miss Terry shortly.</p> + +<p>"A home!" cried the Angel.</p> + +<p>Miss Terry groped in her memory for a scornful ejaculation which she had +once been fond of using, but there was no such word to be found. Instead +there came to her lips the name, "Mary."</p> + +<p>The Angel repeated it softly. "<i>Mary.</i> It is a blessed name," he said. +"Blessed the roof that shelters a Mary in her need."</p> + +<p>There was a long silence, in which Miss Terry felt new impulses stirring +within her; impulses drawing her to the child whose looks recalled her own +childhood. The Angel regarded her with beaming eyes. After some time he +said quietly, "Now let us see what became of your last experiment."</p> + +<p>Miss Terry started. It seemed as if she had been interrupted in pleasant +dreaming. "<i>You</i> were the last experiment," she said. "I know what became +of you. Here you are!"</p> + +<p>"Yet more may have happened than you guessed," replied the Angel meaningly. +"I have tried to show you how often that is the case. Look again."</p> + +<p>Without moving from her chair Miss Terry seemed<a name="Page_64" id="Page_64" /> to be looking out on her +sidewalk, where, so it seemed, she had just laid the pink figure of the +Angel. She saw the drunken man approach. She heard his coarse laugh; saw +his brutal movement as he kicked the Christmas token into the street. In +sick disgust she saw him reel away out of sight. She saw herself run down +the steps, rescue the image, and bring it into the house. Surely the story +was finished. What more could there be?</p> + +<p>But something bade her vision follow the steps of the wretched man. Down +the street he reeled, singing a blasphemous song. With a whoop he rounded a +corner and ran into a happy party which filled sidewalk and street, as it +hurried in the direction from which he came. Good-naturedly they jostled +him against the wall, and he grasped a railing to steady himself as they +swept by. It was the choir on their way to carol in the next street. Before +them went the cross-bearer, lifting high his simple wooden emblem.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/ill05.jpg" width="400" height="548" alt="HE GRASPED A RAILING TO STEADY HIMSELF" title="HE GRASPED A RAILING TO STEADY HIMSELF" /> +<br /><span class="caption">HE GRASPED A RAILING TO STEADY HIMSELF</span> +</div> + +<p>The eyes of the drunken man caught sight of this, and wavered. The presence +of the crowd conveyed no meaning to his dazed brains. But there was +something in the familiar symbol which held his vision. He looked, and +crossed himself, remembering the traditions of his childhood. Some of +the<a name="Page_65" id="Page_65" /> boys were humming as they went the stirring strains of an ancient +Christmas march known to all nations; a carol which began, some say, as a +rousing drinking chorus.</p> + +<p>The familiar strain touched some chord in the sodden brain. The man gave a +feeble whinny, trying to follow the melody. He pulled himself together and +lurched forward in a sudden impulse to join the band of pilgrims. But by +the time he had taken three steps they had vanished, miraculously, as it +seemed to him.</p> + +<p>"Begorra, they're gone!" he cried. "Who were they? Were they rale folks? +What was it they was singin'?"</p> + +<p>He sank back helplessly on a flight of steps. "<i>Ve-ni-te a-do-re-mus!</i>" he +croaked in a quavering basso. And his tangled mind went through strange +processes. Suddenly, there came to him in a flash of exaggerated memory the +figure of the Christmas Angel which not ten minutes earlier he had kicked +into the street. A pious horror fell upon him.</p> + +<p>"Mither o' mercy!" he cried, again crossing himself. "What have I been an' +done? It was a howly image; an' what did I do to ut? Lemme go back an' find +ut, an' take ut up out av the street."</p> + +<p>Greatly sobered by his fear, he staggered down<a name="Page_66" id="Page_66" /> the block and around the +corner to the steps of Miss Terry's house.</p> + +<p>"This is the place," he mused. "I know ut; here's where the frindly +lam'post hild me in its arrums. I rimimber there was a dark house forninst +me. Here's where ut lay on the sidewalk, all pink an' pretty. An' I kicked +ut into the street! Where is ut now? Where gone? Howly Mither! Here's the +spot where ut fell, look now! The shape of uts little body and the wings of +ut in the snow. But 'tis gone intirely!" He rubbed his eyes and crossed +himself again. "'Tis flown away," he muttered. "'Tis gone back to Hiven to +tell Mary Mither o' the wicked thing I done this night. Oh, 'tis a miracle +that's happened! An' oh! The wicked man I am, drunk and disorderly on the +Howly Eve!"</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span>"O come, all ye faithful,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Joyful and triumphant!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Once more he heard the familiar strain taken up lustily by many voices.</p> + +<p>"Hear all the world singin' on the way to Bethlehem!" he said, and the +stupor seemed to leave his brain. He no longer staggered.</p> + +<p>"I'll run an' join 'em, an' I won't drink another drop this night." He +looked up at the starry sky. "Maybe the Angel hears me. Maybe he'll help<a name="Page_67" id="Page_67" /> +me to keep straight to-morrow. It might be my Guardian Angel himsilf that I +treated so! Saints forgive me!"</p> + +<p>With head bowed humbly, but no longer reeling, he moved away towards the +sound of music.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"You were his Guardian Angel," said Miss Terry, when once more she saw the +figure on the mantel-shelf. And she spoke with reverent gentleness.</p> + +<p>The Angel smiled brightly. "The Christmas Spirit is a guardian angel to +many," he said. "Never again despise me, Angelina. Never again make light +of my influence."</p> + +<p>"Never again," murmured Miss Terry half unconsciously. "I wish it were not +too late—"</p> + +<p>"It is never too late," said the Christmas Angel eagerly, as if he read her +unspoken thought. "Oh, never too late, Angelina."</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68" />CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>THE CHRISTMAS CANDLE</h3> + + +<p><img src="images/chssl.png" class="chapfig" alt="S" />uddenly there was a sound,—a dull reverberating sound. It seemed to Miss +Terry to come from neither north, south, east, nor west, but from a +different world. Ah! She recognized it now. It was somebody knocking on the +library door.</p> + +<p>Miss Terry gave a long sigh and drew herself up in her chair. "It must be +Norah just come back," she said to herself. "I had forgotten Norah +completely. It must be shockingly late. Come in," she called, as she +glanced at the clock.</p> + +<p>She rubbed her eyes and looked again. A few minutes after nine! She had +thought it must be midnight!</p> + +<p>Norah entered to find her mistress staring at the mantel where the clock +stood. She saw lying beside the clock the pink Angel which had fallen from +the box as she brought it in,—the box now empty by the fire.</p> + +<p>"Law, Miss," she said, "have you burned them<a name="Page_69" id="Page_69" /> all up but him? I'm glad you +saved him, he's so pretty."</p> + +<p>"Norah," said Miss Terry with an effort, "is that clock right?"</p> + +<p>"Yes'm," said Norah. "I set it this morning. I came back as soon as I +could, Miss," she added apologetically.</p> + +<p>"It isn't that," answered Miss Terry, drawing her hand across her forehead +dazedly. "I did not mind your absence. But I thought it must be later."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, I wouldn't stay out any later when you was alone here, Miss," said +Norah penitently. "I felt ashamed after I had gone. I ought not to have +left you so,—on Christmas Eve. But oh, Miss! The singing was so beautiful, +and the houses looked so grand with the candles in the windows. It is like +a holy night indeed!"</p> + +<p>Miss Terry stooped and picked up something from the floor. It was the bit +of candle-end which had escaped the holocaust.</p> + +<p>"Are the candles still lighted, Norah?" she asked, eyeing the bit of wax in +her hand.</p> + +<p>"Yes'm, some of them," answered the maid. "It is getting late, and a good +many have burned out. But some houses are still as bright as ever."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it is not too late, then," murmured<a name="Page_70" id="Page_70" /> Miss Terry, as if yielding a +disputed point. "Let us hurry, Norah."</p> + +<p>She rose, and going to the mantel-shelf gently took up the figure of the +Angel, while Norah looked on in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Norah," said Miss Terry, with an eagerness which made her voice tremble, +"I want you to hang the Christmas Angel in the window there. I too have a +fancy to burn a candle to-night. If it is not too late I'd like to have a +little share in the Christmas spirit."</p> + +<p>Norah's eyes lighted. "Oh, yes'm," she said. "I'll hang it right away. And +I'll find an empty spool to hold the candle."</p> + +<p>She bustled briskly about, and presently in the window appeared a little +device unlike any other in the block. Against the darkness within, the +figure of the Angel with arms outstretched towards the street shone in a +soft light from the flame of a single tiny candle such as blossom on +Christmas trees.</p> + +<p>It caught the attention of many home-goers, who said, smiling, "How simple! +How pretty! How quaint! It is a type of the Christmas spirit which is +abroad to-night. You can feel it everywhere, blessing the city."</p> + +<p>For some minutes before the candle was lighted, a<a name="Page_71" id="Page_71" /> man muffled in a heavy +overcoat had been standing in a doorway opposite Miss Terry's house. He was +tall and grizzled and his face was sad. He stared up at the gloomy windows, +the only oblongs of blackness in the illuminated block, and he shivered, +shrugging his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"The same as ever!" he said to himself. "I might have known she would never +change. Any one else, on Christmas Eve, after the letter I wrote her, would +have softened a little. But I might have known. She is hard as nails! Of +course, it was my fault in the first place to leave her as I did. But when +I acknowledged it, and when I wrote that letter on Christmas Eve, I thought +Angelina might feel differently." He looked at his watch. "Nearly half-past +nine," he muttered. "I may as well go home. She said she wanted to be let +alone; that Christmas meant nothing to her. I don't dare to call,—on my +only sister! I suppose she is there all alone, and here I am all alone, +too. What a pity! If I saw the least sign—"</p> + +<p>Just then there was the spark of a match against the darkness framed in by +the window opposite. A hand and arm shone in the flicker of light across +the upper sash. A tiny spark, tremulous at first, like a bird alighting on +a frail branch, paused, steadied,<a name="Page_72" id="Page_72" /> and became fixed. In the light of a +small taper the man caught a glimpse of a pale, long face in a frame of +silver hair. It faded into the background. But above the candle he now saw, +with arms outstretched as it seemed toward himself, a pink little angel +with gauzy wings.</p> + +<p>The man's heart gave a leap. Sudden memories thronged his brain, making him +almost dizzy. At last they formulated into one smothered cry. "The +Christmas Angel! It is the very same pink Angel that Angelina and I used to +hang on our Christmas tree!"</p> + +<p>In three great leaps, like a schoolboy, he crossed the street and ran up +the steps of Number 87. The Christmas Angel seemed to smile with ineffable +sweetness as he gave the bell a vigorous pull.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73" />CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>TOM</h3> + + +<p><img src="images/chmsl.png" class="chapfig" alt="M" />iss Terry was leaning on the mantel-shelf looking into the fire, when the +bell pealed furiously. She started and turned pale.</p> + +<p>"Lord 'a' mercy!" ejaculated Norah, who was still admiring the effect of +the window-decoration. "What's that? Who can be calling here to-night, +making such a noise?"</p> + +<p>"Go to the door, Norah," said Miss Terry with a strange note in her voice. +"It may be some one to see me. It is not too late."</p> + +<p>"Yes'm," said Norah, obedient but bewildered.</p> + +<p>Presently the library door opened and a figure strode in; a tall, +broad-shouldered man in a fur overcoat. For a moment he stood just inside +the door, hesitating. Miss Terry took two steps forward from the +fire-place.</p> + +<p>"Tom!" she said faintly. "You came,—after all!"</p> + +<p>"After all, Angelina," he said. "Yes, because I<a name="Page_74" id="Page_74" /> saw <i>that</i>," he waved his +hand toward the window. "That gave me courage to come in. It is our +Christmas Angel. I remember all about it. Does it mean anything, Angelina?"</p> + +<p>Miss Terry held out a moment longer. Then she faltered forward. "O Tom!" +she sobbed, as she felt his brotherly, strong arms about her. "O Tom! And +so he has brought you back to me, and me to you!"</p> + +<p>"He? Angelina girl, who?" He smoothed her silver hair with rough, kind +fingers.</p> + +<p>"Why, the Christmas Angel; our Guardian Angel, Tom. All these years I kept +him in the play box, and I was going to burn him up. But I couldn't do it, +Tom. How wonderful it is!"</p> + +<p>They sat down before the fire and she began to tell him the whole story. +But she interrupted herself to send for Norah, who came to her, mystified +and half scandalized by the greeting which she had seen those two oldsters +exchange.</p> + +<p>"This is my brother Tom, Norah, who has come back," she said. "I believe it +is not too late to make some preparation for Christmas Day. The stores will +still be open. Run out and order things for a grand occasion, Norah. And—O +Norah!" a sudden remembrance came to her. "If you have time, will<a name="Page_75" id="Page_75" /> you +please get some toys and pretty things such as a little girl would like; a +little girl of about ten, with my complexion,—I mean, with yellow hair and +blue eyes. We may have a little guest to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Yes'm," said Norah, moving like one in a dream.</p> + +<p>"A guest?" exclaimed Tom. And Miss Terry told him about Mary.</p> + +<p>"I love little girls," said Tom, "especially little girls with yellow hair +and blue eyes, such as you used to have, Angelina."</p> + +<p>"You will like Mary, then," said Miss Terry, with a pretty pink flush of +pleasure in her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"I shall like her, <i>if</i> she comes," amended Tom, who, man-like, received +with reservations the account of a vision vouchsafed not unto him.</p> + +<p>"She will come," said Miss Terry with her old positiveness, glancing +towards the window where the Christmas Angel hung.</p> + +<p>Then arose the sound of singing outside the house. The passing choristers +had spied the quaint window, now the only one in the street which remained +lighted:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span>"When Christ was born of Mary free,<br /></span> +<span>In Bethlehem, in that fair citye,<br /></span> +<span>Angels sang with mirth and glee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>In Excelsis Gloria!</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76" />CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>CHRISTMAS DAY</h3> + + +<p><img src="images/chasl.png" class="chapfig" alt="A" />nd Mary came. The brother and sister were at breakfast,—the happiest +which either of them had known for years,—when there came a timid pull at +the front-door bell. Miss Angelina laid down her knife and fork and looked +across the table at Tom.</p> + +<p>"She has come. Mary has come," she said. "Norah, if it is a little girl +with a package under her arm, bring her in here."</p> + +<p>"Yes'm!" gasped Norah, who believed she was living in a dream where +everything was topsy-turvy. When had a child entered Miss Terry's +dining-room!</p> + +<p>Norah disappeared and presently returned ushering in a little girl of ten, +with blue eyes and yellow hair. Under her arm she carried a white-paper +package, very badly wrapped.</p> + +<p>Miss Terry exchanged with her brother a glance which said, "I told you so!"</p> + +<p>The child seemed bashful and afraid to speak; no wonder!</p> + +<p><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77" />Tom's kind heart yearned to her. "Good morning! Wish you a merry +Christmas, Mary!" he said smiling.</p> + +<p>The child gave a start. "Why, how did you know my name?" she cried.</p> + +<p>Tom looked confused. How indeed did he know? But Miss Angelina, with a +readiness that surprised herself, came to his rescue.</p> + +<p>"We were talking of a little girl named Mary," she said. "And you look just +like her. What did you come for, dear?"</p> + +<p>The little girl hung her head and turned crimson.</p> + +<p>"I—I came to see Angelina Terry," she whispered. "I—I've got a doll that +belongs to her."</p> + +<p>There was a pause, then Miss Terry said, "Well, go on."</p> + +<p>"I—I found her on the steps of this house last night, and I ought to +have brought her right here then. But I didn't. I took her home. I hope +Angelina was not very unhappy last night."</p> + +<p>Miss Terry smiled upon Tom, who gave a kind, low laugh.</p> + +<p>"No," said Miss Terry. "Angelina did not worry about her lost doll. She was +thinking about something else,—the nicest Christmas present that ever<a name="Page_78" id="Page_78" /> +anybody had. But you were a good girl to bring back the doll."</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not a good girl," said Mary, and her voice trembled. "I was a +wicked girl. I meant to keep Miranda for myself, because I thought she +would be a lovely big doll. And when I found she was old and homely, +somehow I still wanted to keep her. But it was stealing, and I couldn't. +Please, will you give her to Angelina, and tell her I am so sorry?" She +took Miranda out of the wrapping and held her toward Miss Terry without +looking at the doll. It was as if she were afraid of being tempted once +more.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/ill06.jpg" width="400" height="598" alt="MARY RETURNS THE DOLL" title="MARY RETURNS THE DOLL" /> +<br /><span class="caption">MARY RETURNS THE DOLL</span> +</div> + +<p>Miss Terry did not take the doll.</p> + +<p>"I am Angelina," she said. "The doll was mine."</p> + +<p>"You! Angelina!" the child's face was full of bewilderment. Mechanically +she drew Miranda to her and clasped her close.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am Angelina, and that was my doll Miranda," said Miss Terry gently. +"Thank you for returning her. But Mary,—your name is Mary?" The child +nodded.—"Suppose I wanted you to keep her for me, what would you say?"</p> + +<p>Mary's eyes still dwelt upon Miss Terry with a puzzled look. This +gray-haired Angelina was so different from the one she had pictured. She +did<a name="Page_79" id="Page_79" /> not answer the question. Miss Terry drew the child to a chair beside +her.</p> + +<p>"Tell me all about yourself, Mary," she said.</p> + +<p>After some coaxing and prompting from what they already guessed, Mary told +the story of her sad little life.</p> + +<p>She was an orphan recently left to the care of her uncle and aunt, who had +received her grudgingly. They were her sole relatives; and the shame of +their degraded lives was plain through the outlines of the vague picture +which Mary sketched of them.</p> + +<p>"You do not love them, Mary?" asked Miss Terry kindly.</p> + +<p>"No," answered the child. "They always speak crossly to me. When they have +been drinking they beat me."</p> + +<p>Tom rose from the table with a muttered word and began to pace the floor. +His blue eyes were full of tears.</p> + +<p>"Mary," said Miss Terry, "will the people at home be worried if you do not +come back to dinner?"</p> + +<p>Mary shook her head wonderingly. "No," she said. "They will not care. I am +often away on holidays. I go to the Museums."</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_80" id="Page_80" />Then I want you to stay with us to-day," said Miss Terry. "We are going +to have a Christmas celebration, and we need you for a guest. Will you +stay, you and Miranda?"</p> + +<p>Mary looked down at the doll in her arms, and up at the two kind faces bent +toward her. "Yes," she said impulsively, "I will stay. How good you are! I +don't want to go home."</p> + +<p>"Don't go home!" burst out Tom. "Stay with us always and be our little +girl."</p> + +<p>Mary looked from one to the other, half frightened at the new idea. Miss +Terry bent and pecked at her cheek, with a thrill at the new sensation.</p> + +<p>"Yes, we mean it," she said, and her voice was almost sweet. "We believe +that the Christmas Angel has brought you to us, Mary. You have the +Christmas name. But you seem to us like the little girl we both knew best, +little Angelina with blue eyes and yellow hair, who was Miranda's mother. +Will you stay with us, Mary Angelina? Would you like to stay?"</p> + +<p>Mary looked up with a wistful smile. "You are so good!" she said again. "I +wish I could stay. But Uncle and Aunt are so—I am afraid of what they +might do to us all. If they thought you wanted me, they would not let me +go."</p> + +<p>"<a name="Page_81" id="Page_81" />I will fix Uncle and Aunt," said Tom, going for his coat. "Leave them to +me. I know an argument that settles uncles and aunts of that sort. You need +not go back to their house, I promise you, Mary, my dear."</p> + +<p>Mary gave a great sigh of relief. "Oh, I am so glad!" she said. "It was +such a wicked house. And here it is so good!"</p> + +<p>"Good!" Miss Terry echoed the word with a sigh. "Come with me, Mary," she +said.</p> + +<p>She led her little guest through the hall to the library, where a great +fire was blazing, with sundry mysterious packages in white paper piled on +the table beside it. But Miss Terry did not stop at the fire-place. She +drew Mary to the window which looked out on the sidewalk. Above the lower +sash Mary saw the remains of a burned-out Christmas candle; and over it +hung a pink papier-mâché Angel stretching out open arms towards her.</p> + +<p>"This is the Christmas Angel, Mary," said Miss Terry. "He is as old as +Miranda—"</p> + +<p>"He is as old as Christmas," interrupted Tom, looking in from the hall.</p> + +<p>"When we were children, Tom and I, we hung him on our Christmas tree," went +on Miss Terry. "We think he brought you to us. We believe he<a name="Page_82" id="Page_82" /> has changed +the world for us,—has brought us peace, good-will, and happiness. He is +going to be the guardian angel of our house. You must love him, Mary."</p> + +<p>"How beautiful he is!" said Mary reverently. "His face shines like the +Baby's that I saw once in the Church. Oh, Miss Angelina! He is like the +Christ-Child himself!"</p> + +<p>"Call me Aunt Angelina," said Miss Terry with a quick breath.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Angelina," cried the child, throwing her arms about Miss Terry's +neck.</p> + +<p>Tom came and put his great furry coat-sleeves about them both. "And Uncle +Tom," he said.</p> + +<p>"Dear Uncle Tom!" whispered the child shyly.</p> + +<p>There were tears in the eyes of all three.</p> + +<p>"Now we shall live happy ever after," said Tom.</p> + +<p>And the Christmas Angel beamed upon them.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Christmas Angel, by Abbie Farwell Brown + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL *** + +***** This file should be named 15709-h.htm or 15709-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/7/0/15709/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Elaine Walker and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> + +</html> diff --git a/15709-h/images/chasl.png b/15709-h/images/chasl.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b0dc86b --- /dev/null +++ b/15709-h/images/chasl.png diff --git a/15709-h/images/chisl.png b/15709-h/images/chisl.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ae6b9a0 --- /dev/null +++ b/15709-h/images/chisl.png diff --git a/15709-h/images/chmsl.png b/15709-h/images/chmsl.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bf3a096 --- /dev/null +++ b/15709-h/images/chmsl.png diff --git a/15709-h/images/chnsl.png b/15709-h/images/chnsl.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6771b0e --- /dev/null +++ b/15709-h/images/chnsl.png diff --git a/15709-h/images/chosl.png b/15709-h/images/chosl.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2582d89 --- /dev/null +++ b/15709-h/images/chosl.png diff --git a/15709-h/images/chssl.png b/15709-h/images/chssl.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c896be6 --- /dev/null +++ b/15709-h/images/chssl.png diff --git a/15709-h/images/chtsl.png b/15709-h/images/chtsl.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ae5dafb --- /dev/null +++ b/15709-h/images/chtsl.png diff --git a/15709-h/images/chwsl.png b/15709-h/images/chwsl.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..034f30d --- /dev/null +++ b/15709-h/images/chwsl.png diff --git a/15709-h/images/cover.jpg b/15709-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..57c83f3 --- /dev/null +++ b/15709-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/15709-h/images/ill01.jpg b/15709-h/images/ill01.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..88be197 --- /dev/null +++ b/15709-h/images/ill01.jpg diff --git a/15709-h/images/ill02.jpg b/15709-h/images/ill02.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d650c8d --- /dev/null +++ b/15709-h/images/ill02.jpg diff --git a/15709-h/images/ill03.jpg b/15709-h/images/ill03.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..73c6711 --- /dev/null +++ b/15709-h/images/ill03.jpg diff --git a/15709-h/images/ill04.jpg b/15709-h/images/ill04.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fd15c5f --- /dev/null +++ b/15709-h/images/ill04.jpg diff --git a/15709-h/images/ill05.jpg b/15709-h/images/ill05.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..677c0d9 --- /dev/null +++ b/15709-h/images/ill05.jpg diff --git a/15709-h/images/ill06.jpg b/15709-h/images/ill06.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8fbe4a4 --- /dev/null +++ b/15709-h/images/ill06.jpg diff --git a/15709-h/images/logo.png b/15709-h/images/logo.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f49bba1 --- /dev/null +++ b/15709-h/images/logo.png diff --git a/15709-h/images/playbox.png b/15709-h/images/playbox.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3bd8686 --- /dev/null +++ b/15709-h/images/playbox.png diff --git a/15709.txt b/15709.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c8e78d9 --- /dev/null +++ b/15709.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2398 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Christmas Angel, by Abbie Farwell Brown + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Christmas Angel + +Author: Abbie Farwell Brown + +Release Date: April 25, 2005 [EBook #15709] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Elaine Walker and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +By Abbie Farwell Brown + + * * * * * + +THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL. Illustrated. Square 12mo, 60 cents, _net_. +Postage extra. + +JOHN OF THE WOODS. Illustrated. Square 12mo, $1.25. + +FRESH POSIES. Illustrated. Square 8vo, $1.50. + +FRIENDS AND COUSINS. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.00. + +BROTHERS AND SISTERS. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.00. + +THE STAR JEWELS AND OTHER WONDERS. Illustrated. Square 12mo, $1.00. + +THE FLOWER PRINCESS. Illustrated. Sq. 12mo, $1.00. + +THE CURIOUS BOOK OF BIRDS. Illustrated. Square 12mo, $1.10, _net_. +Postpaid, $1.21. + +A POCKETFUL OF POSIES. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.00, _net_. Postpaid, $1.09. + +IN THE DAYS OF GIANTS. Illustrated, 12mo, $1.10, _net_. Postpaid, $1.21. +_School edition_, 50 cents, _net_, postpaid. + +THE BOOK OF SAINTS AND FRIENDLY BEASTS. Illustrated. 12mo, $1.25. +_School Edition_, 50 cents, _net_, postpaid. + +THE LONESOMEST DOLL. Illustrated. Sq. 12mo, 85 cents, _net_. +Postpaid, 95 cents. + +HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY +BOSTON AND NEW YORK + + + + +THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL + +[Illustration: YOU HANG IT ON THE TREE, ANGELINA (page 26)] + +THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL + +BY + +ABBIE FARWELL BROWN + +WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY +REGINALD BIRCH + +BOSTON AND NEW YORK + +HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY + +The Riverside Press Cambridge + +_Published October 1910_ + +SECOND IMPRESSION + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I. THE PLAY BOX 1 + + II. JACK-IN-THE-BOX 8 + + III. THE FLANTON DOG 12 + + IV. NOAH'S ARK 15 + + V. MIRANDA 20 + + VI. THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL 25 + + VII. BEFORE THE FIRE 32 + +VIII. JACK AGAIN 37 + + IX. THE DOG AGAIN 44 + + X. NOAH AGAIN 49 + + XI. MIRANDA AGAIN 53 + + XII. THE ANGEL AGAIN 62 + +XIII. THE CHRISTMAS CANDLE 68 + + XIV. TOM 73 + + XV. CHRISTMAS DAY 76 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + +YOU HANG IT ON THE TREE, ANGELINA (page 26) _Frontispiece_ + +SHE LOOKED UP AND DOWN THE STREET 22 + +_PING!_ OUT SPRANG THE JACK-IN-THE-BOX 42 + +BOB COOPER SAVES THE BABY 46 + +HE GRASPED A RAILING TO STEADY HIMSELF 64 + +MARY RETURNS THE DOLL 78 + +_From drawings by Reginald Birch_ + + + + +THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE PLAY BOX + + +At the sound of footsteps along the hall Miss Terry looked up from the +letter which she was reading for the sixth time. "Of course I would not see +him," she said, pursing her lips into a hard line. "Certainly not!" + +A bump on the library door, as from an opposing knee, did duty for a knock. + +"Bring the box in here, Norah," said Miss Terry, holding open the door for +her servant, who was gasping under the weight of a packing-case. "Set it +down on the rug by the fire-place. I am going to look it over and burn up +the rubbish this evening." + +She glanced once more at the letter in her hand, then with a sniff tossed +it upon the fire. + +"Yes'm," said Norah, as she set down the box with a thump. She stooped once +more to pick up something which had fallen out when the cover was jarred +open. It was a pink papier-mache angel, such as are often hung from the top +of Christmas trees as a crowning symbol. Norah stood holding it between +thumb and finger, staring amazedly. Who would think to find such a bit of +frivolity in the house of Miss Terry! + +Her mistress looked up from the fire, where the bit of writing was writhing +painfully, and caught the expression of Norah's face. + +"What have you there?" she asked, frowning, as she took the object into her +own hands. "The Christmas Angel!" she exclaimed under her breath. "I had +quite forgotten it." Then as if it burned her fingers she thrust the little +image back into the box and turned to Norah brusquely. "There, that's all. +You can go now, Norah," she said. + +"Yes'm," answered the maid. She hesitated. "If you please'm, it's Christmas +Eve." + +"Well, I believe so," snapped Miss Terry, who seemed to be in a +particularly bad humor this evening. "What do you want?" + +Norah flushed; but she was hardened to her mistress's manner. "Only to ask +if I may go out for a little while to see the decorations and hear the +singing." + +"Decorations? Singing? Fiddlestick!" retorted Miss Terry, poker in hand. +"What decorations? What singing?" + +"Why, all the windows along the street are full of candles," answered +Norah; "rows of candles in every house, to light the Christ Child on his +way when he comes through the city to-night." + +"Fiddlestick!" again snarled her mistress. + +"And choir-boys are going about the streets, they say, singing carols in +front of the lighted houses," continued Norah enthusiastically. "It must +sound so pretty!" + +"They had much better be at home in bed. I believe people are losing their +minds!" + +"Please'm, may I go?" asked Norah again. + +Norah had no puritanic traditions to her account. Moreover she was young +and warm and enthusiastic. Sometimes the spell of Miss Terry's sombre house +threatened her to the point of desperation. It was so this Christmas Eve; +but she made her request with apparent calmness. + +"Yes, go along," assented her mistress ungraciously. + +"Thank you, 'm," said the servant demurely, but with a brightening of her +blue eyes. And presently the area door banged behind her quick-retreating +footsteps. + +"H'm! Didn't take her long to get ready!" muttered Miss Terry, giving the +fire a vicious poke. She was alone in the house, on Christmas Eve, and not +a man, woman, or child in the world cared. Well, it was what she wanted. It +was of her own doing. If she had wished-- + +She sat back in her chair, with thin, long hands lying along the arms of +it, gazing into the fire. A bit of paper there was crumbling into ashes. +Alone on Christmas Eve! Even Norah had some relation with the world +outside. Was there not a stalwart officer waiting for her on the nearest +corner? Even Norah could feel a simple childish pleasure in candles and +carols and merriment, and the old, old superstition. + +"Stuff and nonsense!" mused Miss Terry scornfully. "What is our Christmas, +anyway? A time for shopkeepers to sell and for foolish folks to kill +themselves in buying. Christmas spirit? No! It is all humbug,--all +selfishness, and worry; an unwholesome season of unnatural activities. I am +glad I am out of it. I am glad no one expects anything of me,--nor I of any +one. I am quite independent; blessedly independent of the whole foolish +business. It is a good time to begin clearing up for the new year. I'm glad +I thought of it. I've long threatened to get rid of the stuff that has +been accumulating in that corner of the attic. Now I will begin." + +She tugged the packing-case an inch nearer the fire. It was like Miss Terry +to insist upon that nearer inch. Then she raised the cover. It was a box +full of children's battered toys, old-fashioned and quaint; the toys in +vogue thirty--forty--fifty years earlier, when Miss Terry was a child. She +gave a reminiscent sniff as she threw up the cover and saw on the under +side of it a big label of pasteboard unevenly lettered. + +[Illustration: PLAY BOX OF TOM TERRY AND ANGELINA TERRY (scrawl)] + +"Humph!" she snorted. There was a great deal in that "humph." It meant: +Yes, Tom's name had plenty of room, while poor little Angelina had to +squeeze in as well as she could. How like Tom! This accounted for +everything, even to his not being in his sister's house this very night. +How unreasonable he had been! + +Miss Terry shrugged impatiently. Why think of Tom to-night? Years ago he +had deliberately cut himself adrift from her interests. No need to think of +him now. It was too late to appease her. But here were all these toys to be +got rid of. The fire was hungry for them. Why not begin? + +Miss Terry stooped to poke over the contents of the box with lean, long +fingers. In one corner thrust up a doll's arm; in another, an animal's tail +pointed heavenward. She caught glimpses of glitter and tinsel, wheels and +fragments of unidentifiable toys. + +"What rubbish!" she said. "Yes, I'll burn them all. They are good for +nothing else. I suppose some folks would try to give them away, and bore a +lot of people to death. They seem to think they are saving something, that +way. Nonsense! I know better. It is all foolishness, this craze for giving. +Most things are better destroyed as soon as you are done with them. Why, +nobody wants such truck as this. Now, could any child ever have cared for +so silly a thing?" She pulled out a faded jumping-jack, and regarded it +scornfully. "Idiotic! Such toys are demoralizing for children--weaken their +minds. It is a shame to think how every one seems bound to spoil children, +especially at Christmas time. Well, no one can say that I have added to the +shameful waste." + +Miss Terry tossed the poor jumping-jack on the fire, and eyed his last +contortions with grim satisfaction. + +But as she watched, a quaint idea came to her. She was famous for eccentric +ideas. + +"I will try an experiment," she said. "I will prove once for all my point +about the 'Christmas spirit.' I will drop some of these old toys out on the +sidewalk and see what happens. It may be interesting." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +JACK-IN-THE-BOX + + +Miss Terry rose and crossed two rooms to the front window, looking out upon +the street. A flare of light almost blinded her eyes. Every window opposite +her along the block, as far as she could see, was illuminated with a row of +lighted candles across the sash. The soft, unusual glow threw into relief +the pretty curtains and wreaths of green, and gave glimpses of cosy +interiors and flitting happy figures. + +"What a waste of candles!" scolded Miss Terry. "Folks are growing terribly +extravagant." + +The street was white with snow which had fallen a few hours earlier, piled +in drifts along the curb of the little-traveled terrace. But the sidewalks +were neatly shoveled and swept clean, as became the eminently respectable +part of the city where Miss Terry lived. A long flight of steps, with iron +railing at the side, led down from the front door, upon which a silver +plate had for generations in decorous flourishes announced the name of +Terry. + +Miss Terry returned to the play box and drew out between thumb and finger +the topmost toy. It happened to be a wooden box, with a wire hasp for +fastening the cover. Half unconsciously she pressed the spring, and a +hideous Jack-in-the-box sprang out to confront her with a squeak, a leering +smile, and a red nose. Miss Terry eyed him with disfavor. + +"I always did hate that thing," she said. "Tom was continually frightening +me with it, I remember." As if to be rid of unwelcome memories she shut her +mouth tight, even as she shut Jack back into his box, snapping the spring +into place. "This will do to begin with," she thought. She crossed to the +window, which she opened quickly, and tossed out the box, so that it fell +squarely in the middle of the sidewalk. Then closing the window and turning +down the lights in the room behind her, Miss Terry hid in the folds of the +curtain and watched to see what would happen to Jack. + +The street was quiet. Few persons passed on either side. At last she spied +two little ragamuffins approaching. They seemed to be Jewish lads of the +newsboy class, and they eyed the display of candles appraisingly. The +smaller boy first caught sight of the box in the middle of the sidewalk. + +"Hello! Wot's dis?" he grunted, making a dash upon it. + +"Gee! Wot's up?" responded the other, who was instantly at his elbow. + +"Gwan! Lemme look at it." + +The smaller boy drew away and pressed the spring of the box eagerly. +_Ping!_ Out popped the Jack into his astonished face; whereupon he set up a +guffaw. + +"Give it here!" commanded the bigger boy. + +"Naw! You let it alone! It's mine!" asserted the other, edging away along +the curbstone. "I saw it first. You can't have it." + +"Give it here. I saw it first myself. Hand it over, or I'll smash you!" + +The bigger boy advanced threateningly. + +"I won't!" the other whimpered, clasping the box tightly under his jacket. + +He started to run, but the bigger fellow was too quick for him. He pounced +across the sidewalk, and soon the twain were struggling in the snowdrift, +pummeling one another with might and main. + +"I told you so!" commented Miss Terry from behind the curtain. "Here's the +first show of the beautiful Christmas spirit that is supposed to be abroad. +Look at the little beasts fighting over something that neither of them +really wants!" + +Just then Miss Terry spied a blue-coated figure leisurely approaching. At +the same moment an instinct seemed to warn the struggling urchins. + +"Cop!" said a muffled voice from the pile of arms and legs, and in an +instant two black shadows were flitting down the street; but not before the +bigger boy had wrenched the box from the pocket of the little chap. + +"So that is the end of experiment number one," quoth Miss Terry, smiling +grimly. "It happened just about as I expected. They will be fighting again +as soon as they are out of sight. They are Jews; but that doesn't make any +difference about the Christmas spirit. Now let's see what becomes of the +next experiment." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE FLANTON DOG + + +She returned to the play box by the fire, and rummaged for a few minutes +among the tangled toys. Then with something like a chuckle she drew out a +soft, pale creature with four wobbly legs. + +"The Flanton Dog!" she said. "Well, I vow! I had forgotten all about him. +It was Tom who coined the name for him because he was made of Canton +flannel." + +She stood the thing up on the table as well as his weak legs would allow, +and inspected him critically. He certainly was a forlorn specimen. One of +the black beads which had served him for eyes was gone. His ears, which had +originally stood up saucily on his head, now drooped in limp dejection. One +of them was a mere shapeless rag hanging by a thread. He was dirty and +discolored, and his tail was gone. But still he smiled with his red-thread +mouth and seemed trying to make the best of things. + +"What a nightmare!" said Miss Terry contemptuously. "I know there isn't a +child in the city who wants such a looking thing. Why, even the Animal +Rescue folks would give the boys a 'free shot' at that. This isn't going to +bring out any Christmas spirit," she sneered. "I will try it and see." + +Once more she lifted the window and tossed the dog to the sidewalk. He +rolled upon his back and lay pathetically with crooked legs yearning +upward, still smiling. Hardly had Miss Terry time to conceal herself behind +the curtain when she saw a figure approaching, airily waving a stick. + +"No ragamuffin this time," she said. "Hello! It is that good-for-nothing +young Cooper fellow from the next block. They say he is a millionaire. +Well, he isn't even going to see the Flanton Dog." + +The young man came swinging along, debonairly; he was whistling under his +breath. He was a dapper figure in a long coat and a silk hat, under which +the candles lighted a rather silly face. When he reached the spot in the +sidewalk where the Flanton Dog lay, he paused a moment looking down. Then +he poked the object with his stick. On the other side of the street a +mother and her little boy were passing at the time. The child's eyes caught +sight of the dog on the sidewalk, and he hung back, watching to see what +the young man would do to it. But his mother drew him after her. Just then +an automobile came panting through the snow. With a quick movement Cooper +picked up the dog on the end of his stick and tossed it into the street, +under the wheels of the machine. The baby across the street uttered a howl +of anguish at the sight. Miss Terry herself was surprised to feel a pang +shoot through her as the car passed over the queer old toy. She retreated +from the window quickly. + +"Well, that's the end of Flanton," she said with half a sigh. "I knew that +fellow was a brute. I might have expected something like that. But it +looked so--so--" She hesitated for a word, and did not finish her sentence, +but bit her lip and sniffed cynically. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE NOAH'S ARK + + +"Now, what comes next?" Miss Terry rummaged in the box until her fingers +met something odd-shaped, long, and smooth-sided. With some difficulty she +drew out the object, for it was of good size. + +"H'm! The old Noah's ark," she said. "I wonder if all the animals are in +there." + +She lifted the cover, and turned out into her lap the long-imprisoned +animals and their round-bodied chief. Mrs. Noah and her sons had long since +disappeared. But the ark-builder, hatless and one-armed, still presided +over a menagerie of sorry beasts. Scarcely one could boast of being a +quadruped. To few of them the years had spared a tail. From their close +resemblance in their misery, it was not hard to believe in the kinship of +all animal life. She took them up and examined them curiously one by one. +Finally she selected a shapeless slate-colored block from the mass. "This +was the elephant," she mused. "I remember when Tom stepped on him and +smashed his trunk. 'I guess I'm going to be an expressman when I grow up,' +he said, looking sorry. Tom was always full of his jokes. Now I'll try this +and see what happens to the ark on its last voyage." + +Just then there was a noise outside. An automobile honked past, and Miss +Terry shuddered, recalling the pathetic end of the Flanton Dog, which had +given her quite a turn. + +"I hate those horrid machines!" she exclaimed. "They seem like Juggernaut. +I'd like to forbid their going through this street." + +She crowded the elephant with Noah and the rest of his charge back into the +ark and closed the lid. "I can't throw this out of the window," she +reflected. "They would spill. I must take it out on the sidewalk. Land! The +fire's going out! That girl doesn't know how to build fires so they will +keep." + +She laid the Noah's ark on the table, and going to the closet tugged out +several big logs, which she arranged geometrically. About laying fires, as +about most other things, Miss Terry had her own positive theories. Taking +the bellows in hand she blew furiously, and was presently rewarded with a +brisk blaze. She smiled with satisfaction, and trotted upstairs to find her +red knit shawl. With this about her shoulders she was prepared to brave the +December frost. Down the steps she went, and deposited the ark discreetly +at their foot; then returned to take up her position behind the curtains. + +There were a good many people passing, but they seemed too preoccupied to +glance down at the sidewalk. They were nearly all hurrying in one +direction. Some were running in the middle of the street. + +"They are in a great hurry," sniffed Miss Terry disdainfully. "One would +think they had something really important on hand. I suppose they are going +to hear the singing. Fiddlestick!" + +A man hastened by under the window; a woman; two children, a boy and a +girl, running and gesticulating eagerly. None of them noticed the Noah's +ark lying at the foot of the steps. + +Miss Terry began to grow impatient. "Are they all blind?" she fretted. +"What is the matter with them? I wish somebody would find the thing. I am +tired of seeing it lying there." + +She tapped the floor impatiently with her slipper. Just then a woman +approached. She was dressed in the most uncompromising of mourning, and she +walked slowly, with bent head, never glancing at the lighted windows on +either side. + +"She will see it," commented Miss Terry. And sure enough, she did. She +stopped at the doorstep, drew her skirts aside, and bent over to look at +the strange-shaped box at her feet. Finally she lifted it But immediately +she shivered and acted so strangely that Miss Terry thought she was about +to break the toy in pieces on the steps or throw it into the street. +Evidently she detested the sight of it. + +Just then up came a second woman with two small boys hanging at her skirts. +They were ragged and sick-looking. There was something about the expression +of even the tiny knot of hair at the back of the woman's head which told of +anxious poverty. With envious curiosity she hurried up to see what a +luckier mortal had found, crowding to look over her shoulder. The woman in +black drew haughtily away and clutched the Noah's ark with a gesture of +proprietorship. + +"Go away! This is my affair." Miss Terry read her expression and sniffed. +"There is the Christmas spirit coming out again," she said to herself. +"Look at her face!" + +The black-gowned woman prepared to move on with the toy under her arm. But +the second woman caught hold of her skirt and began to speak earnestly. She +pointed to the Noah's ark, then to her two children. Her eyes were +beseeching. The little boys crowded forward eagerly. But some wicked +spirit seemed to have seized the finder of the ark. Angrily she shook off +the hand of the other woman, and clutching the box yet more firmly under +her arm, she hurried away. Once, twice, she turned and shook her head at +the ragged woman who followed her. Then, with a savage gesture at the two +children, she disappeared beyond Miss Terry's straining eyes. The poor +woman and her boys followed forlornly at a distance. + +"They really wanted it, that old Noah's ark!" exclaimed Miss Terry in +amazement. "I can scarcely believe it. But why did that other creature keep +the thing? I see! Only because she found they cared for it. Well, that is a +happy spirit for Christmas time, I should say! Humph! I did not expect to +find anything quite so mean as _that!_" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +MIRANDA + + +Miss Terry returned to the fireside, fumbled in the box, and drew out a +doll. She was an ugly, old-fashioned doll, with bruised waxen face of no +particular color. Her mop of flaxen hair was straggling and uneven, much +the worse for the attention of generations of moths. She wore a faded green +silk dress in the style of Lincoln's day, and a primitive bonnet, evidently +made by childish hands. She was a strange, dead-looking figure, with pale +eyelids closed, as Miss Terry dragged her from the box. But when she was +set upright the lids snapped open and a pair of bright blue eyes looked +straight into those of Miss Terry. It was so sudden that the lady nearly +gasped. + +"Miranda!" she exclaimed. "It is old Miranda! I have not thought of her for +years." She held the doll at arm's length, gazing fixedly at her for some +minutes. + +"I cannot burn her," she muttered at last. "It would seem almost like +murder. I don't like to throw her away, but I have vowed to get rid of +these things to-night. And I'll do it, anyway. Yes, I'll make an experiment +of her. I wonder what sort of trouble she will cause." + +Not even Miss Terry could think of seeing old Miranda lying exposed to the +winter night. She found a piece of paper, rolled up the doll in a neat +package, and tied it with red string. It was, to look upon, entirely a +tempting package. Once more she stole down the steps and hesitated where to +leave Miranda: not on the sidewalk,--for some reason that seemed +impossible. But near the foot of the flight of steps leading to the front +door she deposited the doll. The white package shone out plainly in the +illuminated street. There was no doubt that it would be readily seen. + +With a quite unexplainable interest Miss Terry watched to see what would +happen to Miranda. She waited for some time. The street seemed deserted. +Miss Terry caught the faint sound of singing. The choristers were passing +through a neighboring street, and doubtless all wayfarers within hearing of +their voices were following in their wake. + +She was thoroughly interested in her grim joke, but she was becoming +impatient. Were there to be no more passers? Must the doll stay there +unreclaimed until morning? Presently she became aware of a child's figure +drawing near. It was a little girl of about ten, very shabbily dressed, +with tangled yellow curls hanging over her shoulders. There was something +familiar about her appearance, Miss Terry could not say what it was. She +came hurrying along the sidewalk with a preoccupied air, and seemed about +to pass the steps without seeing the package lying there. But just as she +was opposite the window, her eye caught the gleam of the white paper. She +paused. She looked at it eagerly; it was such a tempting package, both as +to its size and shape! She went closer and bent down to examine it. She +took it into her bare little hands and seemed to squeeze it gently. There +is no mistaking the contours of a doll, however well it may be enveloped in +paper wrappings. The child's eyes grew more and more eager. She glanced +behind her furtively; she looked up and down the street. Then with a sudden +intuition she looked straight ahead, up the flight of steps. + +[Illustration: SHE LOOKED UP AND DOWN THE STREET] + +Miss Terry read her mind accurately. She was thinking that probably the +doll belonged in that house; some one must have dropped the package while +going out or in. Would she ring the bell and return it? Miss Terry had +not thought of that possibility. But she shook her head and her lip curled. +"Return it? Of course not! Ragged children do not usually return promising +packages which they have found,--even on Christmas Eve. Look now!" + +Once more the child glanced stealthily behind her, up and down the street. +Once more she looked up at the dark house before her, the only black spot +in a wreath of brilliancy. She did not see the face peering at her through +the curtains, a face which scanned her own half wistfully. What was to +become of Miranda? The little girl thrust the package under her ragged coat +and ran away down the street as fast as her legs could take her. + +"A thief!" cried Miss Terry. "That is the climax. I have detected a child +taking what she knew did not belong to her, on Christmas Eve! Where are all +their Sunday School lessons and their social improvement classes? I knew +it! This Christmas spirit that one hears so much about is nothing but an +empty sham. I have proved it to my satisfaction to-night. I will burn the +rest of these toys, every one of them, and then go to bed. It is too +disgusting! She was a nice-looking child, too. Poor old Miranda!" + +With something like a sigh Miss Terry strode back to the fire, where the +play box stood gaping. She had made but a small inroad upon its heaped-up +treasures. She threw herself listlessly into the chair and began to pull +over the things. Broken games and animals, dolls' dresses painfully +tailored by unskilled fingers, disjointed members,--sorry relics of past +pleasures,--one by one Miss Terry seized them between disdainful thumb and +finger and tossed them into the fire. Her face showed not a qualm at +parting with these childhood treasures; only the stern sense of a good +housekeeper's duty fulfilled. With queer contortions the bits writhed on +the coals, and finally flared into dissolution, vanishing up chimney in a +shower of sparks to the heaven of spent toys. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL + + +Almost at the bottom of the box Miss Terry's fingers closed about a small +object. Once more she drew out the papier-mache Angel which had so excited +the wonder of Norah when once before that evening it had come to light. + +Miss Terry held it up and looked at it with the same expression on her +face, half tender, half contemptuous. "The Christmas Angel!" she murmured +involuntarily, as she had done before. And again there flashed through her +mind a vivid picture. + +It was the day before Christmas, fifty years earlier. She and her brother +Tom were trimming the Christmas tree in this very library. She saw Tom, in +a white pique suit with short socks that were always slipping down his fat +legs. She saw herself in a white dress and blue ribbons, pouting in a +corner. They had been quarreling about the Christmas tree, disputing as to +which of them should light the first candle when the time arrived. Then +their mother came to them smiling, a sweet-faced lady who seemed not to +notice the red faces and the tears. She put something into Tom's hand +saying, "This is the Christmas Angel of peace and good-will. Hang it on the +tree, children, so that it may shed a blessing on all who come here to give +and to receive." + +How lovely and pink it looked in Tom's hand! Little Angelina had thought it +the most beautiful thing she had ever seen,--and holy, too, as if it had +some blessed charm. Fiddlestick! What queer fancies children have! Miss +Terry remembered how a strange thrill had crept through Angelina as she +gazed at it. Then she and Tom looked at each other and were ashamed of +their quarrel. Suddenly Tom held out the Angel to his sister. "You hang it +on the tree, Angelina," he said magnanimously. "I know you want to." + +But she--little fool!--she too had a fit of generosity. + +"No, you hang it, Tom. You're taller," she said. + +"I'll hang it at the very top of the tree!" he replied, nothing loath. +Eagerly he mounted the step-ladder, while Angelina watched him enviously, +thinking how clumsy he was, and how much better she could do it. + +How funny and fat Tom had looked on top of the ladder, reaching as high as +he dared! The ladder began to wobble, and he balanced precariously, while +Angelina clutched at his fat ankles with a scream of fright. But Tom +said:-- + +"Ow! Angelina, let go my ankles! You hurt! Now don't scream. I shan't fall. +Don't you know that this is the Christmas Angel, and he will never let me +get hurt on Christmas Eve?" + +Swaying wildly on one toe Tom had clutched at the air, at the tree +itself,--anywhere for support. Yet, almost as if by a miracle, he did not +fall. And the Christmas Angel was looking down from the very top of the +tree. + +Miss Terry laid the little pink figure in her lap and mused. "Mother was +wise!" she sighed. "She knew how to settle our quarrels in those days. +Perhaps if she had still been here things would have gone differently. Tom +might not have left me for good. _For good._" She emphasized the words with +a nod as if arguing against something. + +Again she took up the Christmas Angel and looked earnestly at it. Could it +be that tears were glistening in her eyes? Certainly not! With a sudden +sniff and jerk of the shoulders she leaned forward, holding the Angel +towards the fire. This should follow the other useless toys. But something +seemed to stay her hand. She drew back, hesitated, then rose to her feet. + +"I can't burn it," she said. "It's no use, I can't burn it. But I don't +want to see the thing around. I will put this out on the sidewalk, too. +Possibly this may be different and do some good to somebody." + +She wrapped the shawl about her shoulders and once more ran down the steps. +She left the Angel face upward in the middle of the sidewalk, and retreated +quickly to the house. As she opened the door to enter, she caught the +distant chorus of fresh young voices singing in a neighboring square:-- + + "Angels from the realms of glory, + Wing your flight o'er all the earth." + +When she took her place behind the curtain she was trembling a little, she +could not guess why. But now she watched with renewed eagerness. What was +to be the fate of the Christmas Angel? Would he fall into the right hands +and be hung upon some Christmas tree ere morning? Would he-- + +Miss Terry held her breath. A man was staggering along the street toward +her. He whistled noisily a vulgar song, as he reeled from curb to railing, +threatening to fall at every step. A drunken man on Christmas Eve! Miss +Terry felt a great loathing for him. He was at the foot of the steps now. +He was close upon the Angel. Would he see it, or would he tread upon it in +his disgusting blindness? + +Yes--no! He saw the little pink image lying on the bricks, and with a lurch +forward bent to examine it. Miss Terry flattened her nose against the pane +eagerly. She expected to see him fall upon the Angel bodily. But no; he +righted himself with a whoop of drunken mirth. + +"Angel!" she heard him croak with maudlin accent. "Pink Angel, begorrah! +What doin' 'ere, eh? Whoop! Go back to sky, Angel!" and lifting a brutal +foot he kicked the image into the street. Then with a shriek of laughter he +staggered away out of sight. + +Miss Terry found herself trembling with indignation. The idea! He had +kicked the Christmas Angel,--the very Angel that Tom had hung on their +tree! It was sacrilege, or at least--Fiddlestick! Miss Terry's mind was +growing confused. She had a sudden impulse to rescue the toy from being +trampled into filthiness. The fire was better than that. + +She hurried down the steps into the street, forgetting her shawl. She +sought in the snow and snatched the pink morsel to safety. Straight to the +fire she carried it, and once more held it to the flames. But again she +found it impossible to burn the thing. Once, twice, she tried. But each +time something seemed to clutch back her wrist. At last she shrugged +impatiently and laid the Angel on the mantelpiece beside the square old +marble clock, which marked the hour of half-past eight. + +"Well, I won't burn it to-night," she reflected. "Somehow, I can't do it +just now. I don't see what has got into me! But to-morrow I will. Yes, +to-morrow I will." + +She sat down in the armchair and fumbled in the old play box for the +remaining scraps. There were but a few meaningless bits of ribbon and +gauze, with the end of a Christmas candle, the survivor of some past +festival, burned on some tree in the past. All these but the last she +tossed into the fire, where they made a final protesting blaze. The +candle-end fell to the floor unnoticed. + +"There! That is the last of the stuff," she exclaimed with grim +satisfaction, shaking the dust from her black silk skirt. "It is all gone +now, thank Heaven, and I can go to bed in peace. No, I forgot Norah. I +suppose I must sit up and wait for her. Bother the girl! She ought to be in +by now. What can she find to amuse her all this time? Christmas Eve! +Fiddlestick! But I have got rid of a lot of rubbish to-night, and that is +worth something." + +She sank back in her chair and clasped her hands over her breast with a +sigh. She felt strangely weary. Her eyes sought the clock once more, and +doing so rested upon the Christmas Angel lying beside it. She frowned and +closed her eyes to shut out the sight with its haunting memories and +suggestions---- + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +BEFORE THE FIRE + + +Suddenly there was a volume of sound outside, and a great brightness filled +the room. Miss Terry opened her eyes. The fire was burning red; but a +yellow light, as from thousands of candles, shone in at the window, and +there was the sound of singing,--the sweetest singing that Miss Terry had +ever heard. + + "An Angel of the Lord came down, + And glory shone around." + +The words seemed chanted by the voices of young angels. Miss Terry passed +her hands over her eyes and glanced at the clock. But what the hour was she +never noticed, for her gaze was filled with something else. Beside the +clock, in the spot where she had laid it a few minutes before, was the +Christmas Angel. But now, instead of lying helplessly on its back, it was +standing on rosy feet, with arms outstretched toward her. Over its head +fluttered gauzy wings. From under the yellow hair which rippled over the +shoulders two blue eyes beamed kindly upon her, and the mouth widened into +the sweetest smile. + +"Peace on earth to men of good-will!" cried the Angel, and the tone of his +speech was music, yet quite natural and thrilling. + +Miss Terry stared hard at the Angel and rubbed her eyes, saying to herself, +"Fiddlestick! I am dreaming!" + +But she could not rub away the vision. When she opened her eyes the Angel +still stood tiptoe on the mantel-shelf, smiling at her and shaking his +golden head. + +"Angelina!" said the Angel softly; and Miss Terry trembled to hear her name +thus spoken for the first time in years. "Angelina, you do not want to +believe your own eyes, do you? But I am real; more real than the things you +see every day. You must believe in me. I am the Christmas Angel." + +"I know it." Miss Terry's voice was hoarse and unmanageable, as of one in a +nightmare. "I remember." + +"You remember!" repeated the Angel. "Yes; you remember the day when you and +Tom hung me on the Christmas tree. You were a sweet little girl then, with +blue eyes and yellow curls. You believed the Christmas story and loved +Santa Claus. Then you were simple and affectionate and generous and +happy." + +"Fiddlestick!" Miss Terry tried to say. But the word would not come. + +"Now you have lost the old belief and the old love," went on the Angel. +"Now you have studied books and read wise men's sayings. You understand the +higher criticism, and the higher charity, and the higher egoism. You don't +believe in mere giving. You don't believe in the Christmas economics,--you +know better. But are you happy, dear Angelina?" + +Again Miss Terry thrilled at the sound of her name so sweetly spoken; but +she answered nothing. The Angel replied for her. + +"No, you are not happy because you have cut yourself off from the things +that bring folk together in peace and good-will at this holy time. Where +are your friends? Where is your brother to-night? You are still hard and +unforgiving to Tom. You refused to see him to-day, though he wrote so +boyishly, so humbly and affectionately. You have not tried to make any soul +happy. You don't believe in _me_, the Christmas Spirit." + +There is such a word as Fiddlestick, whatever it may mean. But Miss Terry's +mind and tongue were unable to form it. + +"The Christmas spirit!" continued the Angel. "What is life worth if one +cannot believe in the Christmas spirit?" + +With a powerful effort Miss Terry shook off her nightmare sufficiently to +say, "The Christmas spirit is no real thing. I have proved it to-night. It +is not real. It is a humbug!" + +"Not real? A humbug?" repeated the Angel softly. "And you have proved it, +Angelina, this very night?" + +Miss Terry nodded. + +"I know what you have done," said the Angel. "I know very well. How keen +you were! How clever! You made a test of Chance, to prove your point." + +Again Miss Terry nodded with complacency. + +"What knowledge of the world! What grasp of human nature!" commented the +Angel, smiling. "It is like you mere mortals to say, 'I will make my test +in my own way. If certain things happen, I shall foresee what the result +must be. If certain other things happen, I shall know that I am right.' +Events fall out as you expect, and you smile with satisfaction, feeling +your wisdom justified. It ought to make you happy. But does it?" + +Miss Terry regarded the Angel doubtfully. + +"Look now!" he went on, holding up a rosy finger. "You are so +near-sighted! You are so unimaginative! You do not dream beyond the thing +you see. You judge the tale finished while the best has yet to be told. And +you stake your faith, your hope, your charity upon this blind human +judgment,--which is mere Chance!" + +Miss Terry opened her lips to say, "I saw--" but the Angel interrupted her. + +"You saw but the beginning," he said. "You saw but the first page of each +history. Shall I turn over the leaves and let you read what really +happened? Shall I help you to see the whole truth instead of a part? On +this night holy Truth, which is of Heaven, comes for all men to see and to +believe. Look!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +JACK AGAIN + + +The Christmas Angel gently waved his hand to and fro. Gradually, as Miss +Terry sat back in her chair, the library grew dark; or rather, things faded +into an indistinguishable blur. Then it seemed as if she were sitting at a +theatre gazing at a great stage. But at this theatre there was nothing +about her, nothing between her and the place where things were happening. + + * * * * * + +First she saw two little ragamuffins quarreling over something in the snow. +She recognized them. They were the two Jewish boys who had picked up the +Jack-in-the-box. An officer appeared, and they ran away, the bigger boy +having possession of the toy; the smaller one with fists in his eyes, +bawling with disappointment. + +Miss Terry's lips curled with the cynical disgust which she had felt when +first witnessing this scene. But a sweet voice--and she knew it was the +Angel's--whispered in her ear, "Wait and see!" + +She watched the two boys run through the streets until they came to a dark +corner. There the little fellow caught up with the other, and once more the +struggle began. It was a hard and bloody fight. But this time the victory +was with the smaller lad, who used his fists and feet like an enraged +animal, until the other howled for mercy and handed over the disputed toy. + +"Whatcher want it fer, Sam?" he blubbered as he saw it go into the little +fellow's pocket. + +"Mind yer own business! I just want it," answered Sam surlily. + +"Betcher I know," taunted the bigger boy. + +"Betcher yer don't." + +"Do!" + +"Don't!" + +Another fight seemed imminent. But wisdom prevailed with Sammy. He would +not challenge fate a third time. "Come on, then, and see," he grunted. + +And Ike followed. Off the two trudged, through the brilliantly lighted +streets, until they came to a part of the city where the ways were narrower +and dark. + +"Huh! Knowed you was comin' here," commented Ike as they turned into a +grim, dirty alley. + +Little Sam growled, "Didn't!" apparently as a matter of habit. + +"Did!" reasserted Ike. "Just where I was comin' myself." + +Sam turned to him with a grin. + +"Was yer now? By--! Ain't that funny? I thought of it right off." + +"Sure. Same here!" + +They both burst into a guffaw and executed an impromptu double-shuffle of +delight. They were at the door of a tenement house with steep stairs +leading into darkness. Up three flights pounded the two pairs of heavy +boots, till they reached a half-open door, whence issued the clatter of a +sewing-machine and the voices of children. Sam stood on the threshold +grinning debonairly, with hands thrust into his pockets. Ike peered over +his shoulder, also grinning. + +It was a meagre room into which they gazed, a room the chief furniture of +which seemed to be babies. Two little ones sprawled on the floor. A third +tiny tot lay in a broken-down carriage beside the door. A pale, ill-looking +woman was running the machine. On the cot bed was crumpled a fragile +little fellow of about five, and a small pair of crutches lay across the +foot of the bed. + +When the two boys appeared in the doorway, the woman stopped her machine +and the children set up a howl of pleasure. "Sammy! Ikey!" cried the woman, +smiling a wan welcome, as the babies crept and toddled toward the +newcomers. "Where ye come from?" + +"Been to see the shops and the lights in the swell houses," answered Sammy +with a grimace. "Gee! Ain't they wastin' candles to beat the cars!" + +"Enough to last a family a whole year," muttered Ike with disgust. + +The woman sighed. "Maybe they ain't wasted exactly," she said. "How I'd +like to see 'em! But I got to finish this job. I told the chil'ren they +mustn't expect anything this Christmas. But they are too little to know the +difference anyway; all but Joe. I wish I had something for Joe." + +"I got something for Joe," said Sammy unexpectedly. + +The face of the pale little cripple lighted. + +"What is it?" he asked eagerly. "Oh, what is it? A real Christmas present +for me?" + +"Naw! It ain't a Christmas present," said Sam. + +"We don't care anything about Christmas," volunteered Ikey with a grin. + +Sam looked at him with a frown of rebuke. + +"It's just a _present_," he said. "And it didn't cost a cent. I didn't buy +it. I--we found it!" + +"Found it in the street?" Joe's eyes shone. + +"Yah!" the boys nodded. + +"Oh, it _is_ a Christmas present!" cried Joe. "Santa Claus must have +dropped it there for me, because he knew we hadn't any chimney in this +house, and he sent you kind, kind boys to bring it to me." + +The two urchins looked sideways at each other, but said nothing. Presently +Sam drew out the box from his pocket and tried to thrust it into Ike's +hand. "You give it to 'um," he said. "You're the biggest." + +"Naw! You give it. You found it," protested Ike. + +"Ah, g'wan!" + +"Big fool!" + +There was a tussle, and it almost seemed as if the past unpleasantness was +to be repeated from an opposite cause. But Joe's voice settled the dispute. + +"Oh, Sammy, please!" he cried. "I can't wait another minute. Do please give +it to me now!" + +At these words Sam stepped forward without further argument and laid the +box on the bed in front of the little cripple. The babies crowded about. +The mother left her machine and stood smiling faintly at the foot of the +bed. + +Joe pressed the spring. _Ping!_ Out sprang the Jack-in-the-box, with the +same red nose, the same leer, the same roguish eyes which had surprised the +children of fifty years ago. + +[Illustration: _PING!_ OUT SPRANG THE JACK-IN-THE-BOX] + +Jack was always sure of his audience. My! How they screamed and begged Joe +to "do it again." And as for Joe, he lay back on his pillow and laughed and +laughed as though he would never stop. It was the first Jack any of them +had seen. + +Tears stood in the mother's eyes. "Well," she said, "it's as good as a play +to see him. Joe hasn't laughed like that for months. You boys have done him +lots of good. I wouldn't wonder if it helped him get well! If you was +Christians I'd say you showed the real Christmas spirit. But Lord--perhaps +ye do, all the same! I dunno!" + +Sam and Ike were so busy playing with the children that they did not hear. + + * * * * * + +Gradually the tenement house faded and became a blur before Miss Terry's +eyes. Once more she saw the mantel-shelf before her and the Christmas Angel +with outstretched arms waving to and fro. "You see!" he said. "You did not +guess all the pleasure that was shut up in that box with old Jack, did +you?" + +Miss Terry shook her head. + +"And you see how different it all was from what you thought. Now let us see +what became of the Canton-flannel dog." + +"The Flanton Dog." Miss Terry amended the phrase under her breath. It +seemed so natural to use Tom's word. + +"Yes, the Flanton Dog," the Angel smiled. "What do you think became of +him?" + +"I saw what became of him," said Miss Terry. "Bob Cooper threw him under an +automobile, and he was crushed flatter than a pancake." + +"Then you left the window," said the Angel. "In your human way you assumed +that this was the end. But wait and see." + +Once more the room darkened and blurred, and Miss Terry looked out upon +past events as upon a busy, ever-shifting stage. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE DOG AGAIN + + +She saw the snowy street, into which, from the tip of his stick, Bob Cooper +had just tossed the Flanton Dog. She saw, what she had not seen before, the +woman and child on the opposite side of the street. She saw the baby +stretch out wistful hands after the dog lying in the snow. Then an +automobile honked past, and she felt again the thrill of horror as it ran +over the poor old toy. At the same moment the child screamed, and she saw +it point tearfully at the Flanton tragedy. The mother, who had seen nothing +of all this, stooped and spoke to him reprovingly. + +"What's the matter, Johnnie?" she said. "Sh! Don't make such a noise. Here +we are at Mrs. Wales's gate, and you mustn't make a fuss. Now be a good boy +and wait here till Mother comes out." + +She rang the area bell and stood basket in hand, waiting to be admitted. +But Johnnie gazed at one spot in the street, with eyes full of tears, and +with now and then a sob gurgling from his throat. He could not forget what +he had seen. + +The door opened for the mother, who disappeared inside the house, with one +last command to the child: "Now be a good boy, Johnnie. I'll be back in +half a minute." + +Hardly was she out of sight when Johnnie started through the snowdrift +toward the middle of the street. With difficulty he lifted his little legs +out of the deep snow; now and then he stumbled and fell into the soft mass. +But he rose only the more determined upon his errand, and kept his eyes +fixed on the wreck of the Flanton Dog. + +Bob Cooper, who was idly strolling up and down the block, smoking a +cigarette, as he watched the flitting girlish shadows in a certain window +opposite, saw the child's frantic struggles in the snow and was intensely +amused. "Bah Jove!" he chuckled. "I believe he's after the wretched dawg +that I tossed over there with my stick. Fahncy it!" And carelessly he +puffed a whiff of smoke. + +At last the baby reached the middle of the street and stooped to pick up +the battered toy. It was flattened and shapeless, but the child clasped it +tenderly and began to coo softly to it. + +"Bah Jove!" repeated Cooper. "Fahncy caring so much about anything! Poor +kid! Perhaps that is all the Christmas he will have." He blew a thoughtful +puff through his nose. "Christmas Eve!" The thought flashed through his +mind with a new appeal. + +Just then came a sudden "_Honk, honk!_" An automobile had turned the corner +and was coming up at full speed. It was the same machine which had passed a +few minutes earlier in the opposite direction. + +"Hi there!" Cooper yelled to the child. But the latter was sitting in the +snow in the middle of the street, rocking back and forth, with the Flanton +Dog in his arms. There was scarcely time for action. Bob dropped his +cigarette and his cane, made one leap into the street and another to the +child, and by the impact of his body threw the baby into the drift at the +curb. With a horrified _honk_ the automobile passed over the young man, who +lay senseless in the snow. + +[Illustration: BOB COOPER SAVES THE BABY] + +He was not killed. Miss Terry saw him taken to his home close by, where his +broken leg was set and his bruises attended to. She saw him lying bandaged +and white on his bed when the woman and her child were brought to see him. +Johnnie was still clasping closely the unlucky Flanton Dog. + +"Well, Kid," said the young man feebly, "so you saved the dog, after all." + +"O sir!" cried the poor woman, weeping. "Only to think that he would not +be here now but for you. What a Christmas that would have been for me! You +were so good, so brave!" + +"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. + +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. + +She pinched the package gently. Yes, there could be no doubt about it. It +was a doll,--not a very large doll; but Mary reflected that she had never +thought she should care for a large doll. Undoubtedly it was a very nice +one. Had she not found it in a swell part of the city, on the steps of a +swell-looking house? Mary gloated over the doll as she fancied it; with +real hair, and eyes that opened and shut; with four little white teeth, and +hands with dimples in the knuckles. She had seen such dolls in the windows +of the big shops. But she had never hoped to have one for her very own. + +"Maybe it will have on a blue silk dress and white kid shoes, like that one +I saw this morning!" she mused rapturously. + +She pinched the spot where she fancied the doll's feet ought to be. + +"Yes, she's got shoes, sure enough! I bet they're white, too. They _feel_ +white. Oh, what fun I shall have with her,"--she hugged the doll +fondly,--"if Uncle and Aunt don't take her away!" + +The sudden thought made her stand still in horror. "They sold Mother's +little clock for rum," she said bitterly. "They sold the ring with the red +stone that Father gave me on my birthday when I was seven. They sold the +presents that I got at Sunday School last year. Oh, wouldn't it be dreadful +if they should sell my new doll! And I know they will want to if they see +her." She squeezed the bundle closer with the prescient pang of parting. + +"Maybe they'll be out somewhere." With this faint hope she reached the +tenement and crept up the dingy stairs. She peeped in at the door. Alas! +Her uncle and aunt were in the kitchen, through which she had to pass. They +had company; some dirty-looking men and women, and there were a jug and +glasses on the table before them. Mary's heart sank, but she nodded bravely +to the company and tried to slip through the crowd to the other room. But +her aunt was quick to see that she carried something under her coat. + +"What you got there? A Christmas present?" she sneered. + +Mary flushed. "No," she said slowly, "just something I found." + +"Found? Hello, what is it? A package!" + +Her uncle advanced and snatched it from her. + +"Please," pleaded Mary, "please, I found it. It is mine. I think it is only +a doll." + +"A doll! Huh! Who needs a doll?" hiccoughed her uncle. "We want something +more to drink. We'll sell it--" + +A bellow of laughter resounded through the room. The paper being torn +roughly away, poor Miranda stood revealed in all her faded beauty. The +pallid waxen face, straggling hair, and old-fashioned dress presented a +sorry sight to the greedy eyes which had expected to find something +exchangeable for drink. A sorry sight she was to Mary, who had hoped for +something so much lovelier. A flush of disappointment came into her cheek, +and tears to her eyes. + +"Here, take your old doll," said her uncle roughly, thrusting it into her +arms. "Take your old doll and get away with her. If that's the best you can +find you'd better _steal_ something next time." + +Steal something! Had she not in fact stolen it? Mary knew very well that +she had, and she flushed pinker yet to think what a fool she had made of +herself for nothing. She took the despised doll and retreated into the +other room, followed by a chorus of jeers and comments. She banged the door +behind her and sat down with poor Miranda on her knees, crying as if her +heart would break. She had so longed for a beautiful doll! It did seem too +cruel that when she found one it should turn out to be so ugly. She seized +poor Miranda and shook her fiercely. + +"You horrid old thing!" she said. "Ain't you ashamed to fool me so? Ain't +you ashamed to make me think you was a lovely doll with pretty clo'es and +_white kid shoes?_ Ain't you?" + +She shook Miranda again until her eyeballs rattled in her head. The doll +fell to the floor and lay there with closed eyes. Her face was pallid and +ghastly. Her bonnet had fallen off, and her hair stuck out wildly in every +direction. Her legs were doubled under her in the most helpless fashion. +She was the forlornest figure of a doll imaginable. Presently Mary drew her +hands away from her eyes and looked down at Miranda. There was something in +the doll's attitude as she lay there which touched the little girl's heart. +Once she had seen a woman who had been injured in the street,--she would +never forget it. The poor creature's eyes had been closed, and her face, +under the fallen bonnet, was of this same pasty color. Mary shuddered. +Suddenly she felt a warm rush of pity for the doll. + +"You poor old thing!" she exclaimed, looking at Miranda almost tenderly. +"I'm sorry I shook you. You look so tired and sad and homesick! I wonder if +somebody is worrying about you this minute. It was very wicked of me to +take you away--on Christmas Eve, too! I wish I had left you where I found +you. Maybe some little girl is crying now because you are lost." + +Mary stooped and lifted the doll gently upon her knees. As she took Miranda +up, the blue eyes opened and seemed to look full at her. Miranda's one +beauty was her eyes. Mary felt her heart grow warmer and warmer toward the +quaint stranger. + +"You have lovely eyes," she murmured. "I think after all you are almost +pretty. Perhaps I should grow to like you awfully. You are not a bit like +the doll I hoped to have; but that is not your fault." A thought made her +face brighten. "Why, if you had been a beautiful doll they would have taken +you away and sold you for rum." Her face expressed utter disgust. She +hugged Miranda close with a sudden outburst of affection. "Oh, you dear old +thing!" she cried. "I am so glad you are--just like this. I am so glad, for +now I can keep you always and always, and no one will want to take you away +from me." + +She rocked to and fro, holding the doll tightly to her heart. Mary was not +one to feel a half-passion about anything. "I will make you some new +dresses," she said, fingering the old-fashioned silk with a puzzled air. "I +wonder why your mother dressed you so queerly? She was not much of a sewer +if she made this bonnet!" Scornfully she took off the primitive bonnet and +smoothed out the tangled hair. "I wonder what you have on underneath," she +said. + +With gentle fingers she began to undress Miranda. Off came the green silk +dress with its tight "basque" and overskirt. Off came the ruffled petticoat +and little chemise edged with fine lace. And Miranda stood in shapeless, +kid-bodied ugliness, which stage of evolution the doll of her day had +reached. + +But there was something more. Around her neck she wore a ribbon; on the +ribbon was a cardboard medal; and on the medal a childish hand had +scratched the legend,-- + +_Miranda Terry._ +If lost, please return her to her mother, +_Angelina Terry_, +87 Overlook Terrace. + +It was such a card as Miss Terry herself had worn in the days when her +mother had first let her and Tom go out on the street without a nurse. + +Mary stared hard at the bit of cardboard. 87 Overlook Terrace! Yes, that +was where she had found the doll. She remembered now seeing the name on a +street corner. _Miranda;_ what a pretty name for a doll! _Angelina Terry;_ +so that was the name of the little girl who had lost Miranda. Angelina +must be feeling very sorry now. Perhaps she was crying herself to sleep, +for it was growing late. + +Her two girl cousins came romping into the bedroom. They had been having a +hilarious evening. + +"Hello, Mary!" they cried. "We heard about your great find!"--"Playing with +your old doll, are you? Goin' to hang up her stockin' and see if Santa +Claus will fill it?"--"Huh! Santa Claus won't come to _this_ house, I +guess!" + +Mary had almost forgotten that it was Christmas Eve. There had been nothing +in the house to remind her. Perhaps Angelina Terry had hung up a stocking +for Miranda at 87 Overlook Terrace. But there would be no Miranda to see it +the next morning. + +Her cousins teased her for some time, while they undressed, and Mary grew +sulky. She sat in her corner and answered them shortly. But presently the +room was quiet, for the girls slept easily. Then Mary crept into her little +cot with the doll in her arms. She loved Miranda so much that she would +never part with her, no indeed; not even though she now knew where Miranda +belonged. 87 Overlook Terrace! The figures danced before her eyes +maliciously. She wished she could forget them. And the thought of Angelina +Terry kept coming to her. Poor Angelina! + +"She ain't 'poor Angelina,'" argued Mary to herself. "She's _rich_ +Angelina. Doesn't she live in a big house in the swell part of the city? I +s'pose she has hundreds of dolls, much handsomer than Miranda, and lots of +other toys. I guess she won't miss this one queer old doll. I guess she'd +let me keep it if she knew I hadn't any of my own. I guess it ought to be +my doll. Anyway, I'm going to keep her. I don't believe Angelina loves +Miranda so much as I do." + +She laid her cheek against the doll's cold waxen one and presently fell +asleep. + +But she slept uneasily. In the middle of the night she awoke and lay for +hours tossing and unhappy in the stuffy little room. The clock struck one, +two, three. At last she gave a great sigh, and cuddling Miranda in her arms +turned over, with peace in her heart. + +"I will play you are mine, my very own dollie, for just this one night," +she whispered in Miranda's ear. "To-morrow will be Christmas Day, and I +will take you back to your little mother, Angelina Terry. I can't do a mean +thing at Christmas time,--not even for you, dear Miranda." + +Thereupon she fell into a peaceful sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE ANGEL AGAIN + + +"Will she bring it back?" asked Miss Terry eagerly, when once more she +found herself under the gaze of the Christmas Angel. He nodded brightly. + +"To-morrow morning you will see," he said. "It will prove that all I have +shown you is really true." + +"A pretty child," said Miss Terry musingly. "A very nice child indeed. I +believe she looks very much as I used to be myself." + +"You see, she is not a thief, after all; not _yet_," said the Angel. "What +a pity that she must live in that sad home, with such terrible people! A +sensitive child like her, craving sympathy and affection,--what chance has +she for happiness? What would you yourself have been in surroundings like +hers?" + +"Yes, she is very like what I was. Of course I shall let her keep the +doll." + +Miss Terry hesitated. The Angel looked at her steadily and his glance +seemed to read her half-formed thoughts. + +"Surely," he said. "It seems to belong to her, does it not? But is this +all? I wonder if something more does not belong to her." + +"What more?" asked Miss Terry shortly. + +"A home!" cried the Angel. + +Miss Terry groped in her memory for a scornful ejaculation which she had +once been fond of using, but there was no such word to be found. Instead +there came to her lips the name, "Mary." + +The Angel repeated it softly. "_Mary._ It is a blessed name," he said. +"Blessed the roof that shelters a Mary in her need." + +There was a long silence, in which Miss Terry felt new impulses stirring +within her; impulses drawing her to the child whose looks recalled her own +childhood. The Angel regarded her with beaming eyes. After some time he +said quietly, "Now let us see what became of your last experiment." + +Miss Terry started. It seemed as if she had been interrupted in pleasant +dreaming. "_You_ were the last experiment," she said. "I know what became +of you. Here you are!" + +"Yet more may have happened than you guessed," replied the Angel meaningly. +"I have tried to show you how often that is the case. Look again." + +Without moving from her chair Miss Terry seemed to be looking out on her +sidewalk, where, so it seemed, she had just laid the pink figure of the +Angel. She saw the drunken man approach. She heard his coarse laugh; saw +his brutal movement as he kicked the Christmas token into the street. In +sick disgust she saw him reel away out of sight. She saw herself run down +the steps, rescue the image, and bring it into the house. Surely the story +was finished. What more could there be? + +But something bade her vision follow the steps of the wretched man. Down +the street he reeled, singing a blasphemous song. With a whoop he rounded a +corner and ran into a happy party which filled sidewalk and street, as it +hurried in the direction from which he came. Good-naturedly they jostled +him against the wall, and he grasped a railing to steady himself as they +swept by. It was the choir on their way to carol in the next street. Before +them went the cross-bearer, lifting high his simple wooden emblem. + +[Illustration: HE GRASPED A RAILING TO STEADY HIMSELF] + +The eyes of the drunken man caught sight of this, and wavered. The presence +of the crowd conveyed no meaning to his dazed brains. But there was +something in the familiar symbol which held his vision. He looked, and +crossed himself, remembering the traditions of his childhood. Some of +the boys were humming as they went the stirring strains of an ancient +Christmas march known to all nations; a carol which began, some say, as a +rousing drinking chorus. + +The familiar strain touched some chord in the sodden brain. The man gave a +feeble whinny, trying to follow the melody. He pulled himself together and +lurched forward in a sudden impulse to join the band of pilgrims. But by +the time he had taken three steps they had vanished, miraculously, as it +seemed to him. + +"Begorra, they're gone!" he cried. "Who were they? Were they rale folks? +What was it they was singin'?" + +He sank back helplessly on a flight of steps. "_Ve-ni-te a-do-re-mus!_" he +croaked in a quavering basso. And his tangled mind went through strange +processes. Suddenly, there came to him in a flash of exaggerated memory the +figure of the Christmas Angel which not ten minutes earlier he had kicked +into the street. A pious horror fell upon him. + +"Mither o' mercy!" he cried, again crossing himself. "What have I been an' +done? It was a howly image; an' what did I do to ut? Lemme go back an' find +ut, an' take ut up out av the street." + +Greatly sobered by his fear, he staggered down the block and around the +corner to the steps of Miss Terry's house. + +"This is the place," he mused. "I know ut; here's where the frindly +lam'post hild me in its arrums. I rimimber there was a dark house forninst +me. Here's where ut lay on the sidewalk, all pink an' pretty. An' I kicked +ut into the street! Where is ut now? Where gone? Howly Mither! Here's the +spot where ut fell, look now! The shape of uts little body and the wings of +ut in the snow. But 'tis gone intirely!" He rubbed his eyes and crossed +himself again. "'Tis flown away," he muttered. "'Tis gone back to Hiven to +tell Mary Mither o' the wicked thing I done this night. Oh, 'tis a miracle +that's happened! An' oh! The wicked man I am, drunk and disorderly on the +Howly Eve!" + + "O come, all ye faithful, + Joyful and triumphant!" + +Once more he heard the familiar strain taken up lustily by many voices. + +"Hear all the world singin' on the way to Bethlehem!" he said, and the +stupor seemed to leave his brain. He no longer staggered. + +"I'll run an' join 'em, an' I won't drink another drop this night." He +looked up at the starry sky. "Maybe the Angel hears me. Maybe he'll help +me to keep straight to-morrow. It might be my Guardian Angel himsilf that I +treated so! Saints forgive me!" + +With head bowed humbly, but no longer reeling, he moved away towards the +sound of music. + + * * * * * + +"You were his Guardian Angel," said Miss Terry, when once more she saw the +figure on the mantel-shelf. And she spoke with reverent gentleness. + +The Angel smiled brightly. "The Christmas Spirit is a guardian angel to +many," he said. "Never again despise me, Angelina. Never again make light +of my influence." + +"Never again," murmured Miss Terry half unconsciously. "I wish it were not +too late--" + +"It is never too late," said the Christmas Angel eagerly, as if he read her +unspoken thought. "Oh, never too late, Angelina." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE CHRISTMAS CANDLE + + +Suddenly there was a sound,--a dull reverberating sound. It seemed to Miss +Terry to come from neither north, south, east, nor west, but from a +different world. Ah! She recognized it now. It was somebody knocking on the +library door. + +Miss Terry gave a long sigh and drew herself up in her chair. "It must be +Norah just come back," she said to herself. "I had forgotten Norah +completely. It must be shockingly late. Come in," she called, as she +glanced at the clock. + +She rubbed her eyes and looked again. A few minutes after nine! She had +thought it must be midnight! + +Norah entered to find her mistress staring at the mantel where the clock +stood. She saw lying beside the clock the pink Angel which had fallen from +the box as she brought it in,--the box now empty by the fire. + +"Law, Miss," she said, "have you burned them all up but him? I'm glad you +saved him, he's so pretty." + +"Norah," said Miss Terry with an effort, "is that clock right?" + +"Yes'm," said Norah. "I set it this morning. I came back as soon as I +could, Miss," she added apologetically. + +"It isn't that," answered Miss Terry, drawing her hand across her forehead +dazedly. "I did not mind your absence. But I thought it must be later." + +"Oh, no, I wouldn't stay out any later when you was alone here, Miss," said +Norah penitently. "I felt ashamed after I had gone. I ought not to have +left you so,--on Christmas Eve. But oh, Miss! The singing was so beautiful, +and the houses looked so grand with the candles in the windows. It is like +a holy night indeed!" + +Miss Terry stooped and picked up something from the floor. It was the bit +of candle-end which had escaped the holocaust. + +"Are the candles still lighted, Norah?" she asked, eyeing the bit of wax in +her hand. + +"Yes'm, some of them," answered the maid. "It is getting late, and a good +many have burned out. But some houses are still as bright as ever." + +"Perhaps it is not too late, then," murmured Miss Terry, as if yielding a +disputed point. "Let us hurry, Norah." + +She rose, and going to the mantel-shelf gently took up the figure of the +Angel, while Norah looked on in amazement. + +"Norah," said Miss Terry, with an eagerness which made her voice tremble, +"I want you to hang the Christmas Angel in the window there. I too have a +fancy to burn a candle to-night. If it is not too late I'd like to have a +little share in the Christmas spirit." + +Norah's eyes lighted. "Oh, yes'm," she said. "I'll hang it right away. And +I'll find an empty spool to hold the candle." + +She bustled briskly about, and presently in the window appeared a little +device unlike any other in the block. Against the darkness within, the +figure of the Angel with arms outstretched towards the street shone in a +soft light from the flame of a single tiny candle such as blossom on +Christmas trees. + +It caught the attention of many home-goers, who said, smiling, "How simple! +How pretty! How quaint! It is a type of the Christmas spirit which is +abroad to-night. You can feel it everywhere, blessing the city." + +For some minutes before the candle was lighted, a man muffled in a heavy +overcoat had been standing in a doorway opposite Miss Terry's house. He was +tall and grizzled and his face was sad. He stared up at the gloomy windows, +the only oblongs of blackness in the illuminated block, and he shivered, +shrugging his shoulders. + +"The same as ever!" he said to himself. "I might have known she would never +change. Any one else, on Christmas Eve, after the letter I wrote her, would +have softened a little. But I might have known. She is hard as nails! Of +course, it was my fault in the first place to leave her as I did. But when +I acknowledged it, and when I wrote that letter on Christmas Eve, I thought +Angelina might feel differently." He looked at his watch. "Nearly half-past +nine," he muttered. "I may as well go home. She said she wanted to be let +alone; that Christmas meant nothing to her. I don't dare to call,--on my +only sister! I suppose she is there all alone, and here I am all alone, +too. What a pity! If I saw the least sign--" + +Just then there was the spark of a match against the darkness framed in by +the window opposite. A hand and arm shone in the flicker of light across +the upper sash. A tiny spark, tremulous at first, like a bird alighting on +a frail branch, paused, steadied, and became fixed. In the light of a +small taper the man caught a glimpse of a pale, long face in a frame of +silver hair. It faded into the background. But above the candle he now saw, +with arms outstretched as it seemed toward himself, a pink little angel +with gauzy wings. + +The man's heart gave a leap. Sudden memories thronged his brain, making him +almost dizzy. At last they formulated into one smothered cry. "The +Christmas Angel! It is the very same pink Angel that Angelina and I used to +hang on our Christmas tree!" + +In three great leaps, like a schoolboy, he crossed the street and ran up +the steps of Number 87. The Christmas Angel seemed to smile with ineffable +sweetness as he gave the bell a vigorous pull. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +TOM + + +Miss Terry was leaning on the mantel-shelf looking into the fire, when the +bell pealed furiously. She started and turned pale. + +"Lord 'a' mercy!" ejaculated Norah, who was still admiring the effect of +the window-decoration. "What's that? Who can be calling here to-night, +making such a noise?" + +"Go to the door, Norah," said Miss Terry with a strange note in her voice. +"It may be some one to see me. It is not too late." + +"Yes'm," said Norah, obedient but bewildered. + +Presently the library door opened and a figure strode in; a tall, +broad-shouldered man in a fur overcoat. For a moment he stood just inside +the door, hesitating. Miss Terry took two steps forward from the +fire-place. + +"Tom!" she said faintly. "You came,--after all!" + +"After all, Angelina," he said. "Yes, because I saw _that_," he waved his +hand toward the window. "That gave me courage to come in. It is our +Christmas Angel. I remember all about it. Does it mean anything, Angelina?" + +Miss Terry held out a moment longer. Then she faltered forward. "O Tom!" +she sobbed, as she felt his brotherly, strong arms about her. "O Tom! And +so he has brought you back to me, and me to you!" + +"He? Angelina girl, who?" He smoothed her silver hair with rough, kind +fingers. + +"Why, the Christmas Angel; our Guardian Angel, Tom. All these years I kept +him in the play box, and I was going to burn him up. But I couldn't do it, +Tom. How wonderful it is!" + +They sat down before the fire and she began to tell him the whole story. +But she interrupted herself to send for Norah, who came to her, mystified +and half scandalized by the greeting which she had seen those two oldsters +exchange. + +"This is my brother Tom, Norah, who has come back," she said. "I believe it +is not too late to make some preparation for Christmas Day. The stores will +still be open. Run out and order things for a grand occasion, Norah. And--O +Norah!" a sudden remembrance came to her. "If you have time, will you +please get some toys and pretty things such as a little girl would like; a +little girl of about ten, with my complexion,--I mean, with yellow hair and +blue eyes. We may have a little guest to-morrow." + +"Yes'm," said Norah, moving like one in a dream. + +"A guest?" exclaimed Tom. And Miss Terry told him about Mary. + +"I love little girls," said Tom, "especially little girls with yellow hair +and blue eyes, such as you used to have, Angelina." + +"You will like Mary, then," said Miss Terry, with a pretty pink flush of +pleasure in her cheeks. + +"I shall like her, _if_ she comes," amended Tom, who, man-like, received +with reservations the account of a vision vouchsafed not unto him. + +"She will come," said Miss Terry with her old positiveness, glancing +towards the window where the Christmas Angel hung. + +Then arose the sound of singing outside the house. The passing choristers +had spied the quaint window, now the only one in the street which remained +lighted:-- + + "When Christ was born of Mary free, + In Bethlehem, in that fair citye, + Angels sang with mirth and glee, + _In Excelsis Gloria!_" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +CHRISTMAS DAY + + +And Mary came. The brother and sister were at breakfast,--the happiest +which either of them had known for years,--when there came a timid pull at +the front-door bell. Miss Angelina laid down her knife and fork and looked +across the table at Tom. + +"She has come. Mary has come," she said. "Norah, if it is a little girl +with a package under her arm, bring her in here." + +"Yes'm!" gasped Norah, who believed she was living in a dream where +everything was topsy-turvy. When had a child entered Miss Terry's +dining-room! + +Norah disappeared and presently returned ushering in a little girl of ten, +with blue eyes and yellow hair. Under her arm she carried a white-paper +package, very badly wrapped. + +Miss Terry exchanged with her brother a glance which said, "I told you so!" + +The child seemed bashful and afraid to speak; no wonder! + +Tom's kind heart yearned to her. "Good morning! Wish you a merry +Christmas, Mary!" he said smiling. + +The child gave a start. "Why, how did you know my name?" she cried. + +Tom looked confused. How indeed did he know? But Miss Angelina, with a +readiness that surprised herself, came to his rescue. + +"We were talking of a little girl named Mary," she said. "And you look just +like her. What did you come for, dear?" + +The little girl hung her head and turned crimson. + +"I--I came to see Angelina Terry," she whispered. "I--I've got a doll that +belongs to her." + +There was a pause, then Miss Terry said, "Well, go on." + +"I--I found her on the steps of this house last night, and I ought to +have brought her right here then. But I didn't. I took her home. I hope +Angelina was not very unhappy last night." + +Miss Terry smiled upon Tom, who gave a kind, low laugh. + +"No," said Miss Terry. "Angelina did not worry about her lost doll. She was +thinking about something else,--the nicest Christmas present that ever +anybody had. But you were a good girl to bring back the doll." + +"No, I'm not a good girl," said Mary, and her voice trembled. "I was a +wicked girl. I meant to keep Miranda for myself, because I thought she +would be a lovely big doll. And when I found she was old and homely, +somehow I still wanted to keep her. But it was stealing, and I couldn't. +Please, will you give her to Angelina, and tell her I am so sorry?" She +took Miranda out of the wrapping and held her toward Miss Terry without +looking at the doll. It was as if she were afraid of being tempted once +more. + +[Illustration: MARY RETURNS THE DOLL] + +Miss Terry did not take the doll. + +"I am Angelina," she said. "The doll was mine." + +"You! Angelina!" the child's face was full of bewilderment. Mechanically +she drew Miranda to her and clasped her close. + +"Yes, I am Angelina, and that was my doll Miranda," said Miss Terry gently. +"Thank you for returning her. But Mary,--your name is Mary?" The child +nodded.--"Suppose I wanted you to keep her for me, what would you say?" + +Mary's eyes still dwelt upon Miss Terry with a puzzled look. This +gray-haired Angelina was so different from the one she had pictured. She +did not answer the question. Miss Terry drew the child to a chair beside +her. + +"Tell me all about yourself, Mary," she said. + +After some coaxing and prompting from what they already guessed, Mary told +the story of her sad little life. + +She was an orphan recently left to the care of her uncle and aunt, who had +received her grudgingly. They were her sole relatives; and the shame of +their degraded lives was plain through the outlines of the vague picture +which Mary sketched of them. + +"You do not love them, Mary?" asked Miss Terry kindly. + +"No," answered the child. "They always speak crossly to me. When they have +been drinking they beat me." + +Tom rose from the table with a muttered word and began to pace the floor. +His blue eyes were full of tears. + +"Mary," said Miss Terry, "will the people at home be worried if you do not +come back to dinner?" + +Mary shook her head wonderingly. "No," she said. "They will not care. I am +often away on holidays. I go to the Museums." + +"Then I want you to stay with us to-day," said Miss Terry. "We are going +to have a Christmas celebration, and we need you for a guest. Will you +stay, you and Miranda?" + +Mary looked down at the doll in her arms, and up at the two kind faces bent +toward her. "Yes," she said impulsively, "I will stay. How good you are! I +don't want to go home." + +"Don't go home!" burst out Tom. "Stay with us always and be our little +girl." + +Mary looked from one to the other, half frightened at the new idea. Miss +Terry bent and pecked at her cheek, with a thrill at the new sensation. + +"Yes, we mean it," she said, and her voice was almost sweet. "We believe +that the Christmas Angel has brought you to us, Mary. You have the +Christmas name. But you seem to us like the little girl we both knew best, +little Angelina with blue eyes and yellow hair, who was Miranda's mother. +Will you stay with us, Mary Angelina? Would you like to stay?" + +Mary looked up with a wistful smile. "You are so good!" she said again. "I +wish I could stay. But Uncle and Aunt are so--I am afraid of what they +might do to us all. If they thought you wanted me, they would not let me +go." + +"I will fix Uncle and Aunt," said Tom, going for his coat. "Leave them to +me. I know an argument that settles uncles and aunts of that sort. You need +not go back to their house, I promise you, Mary, my dear." + +Mary gave a great sigh of relief. "Oh, I am so glad!" she said. "It was +such a wicked house. And here it is so good!" + +"Good!" Miss Terry echoed the word with a sigh. "Come with me, Mary," she +said. + +She led her little guest through the hall to the library, where a great +fire was blazing, with sundry mysterious packages in white paper piled on +the table beside it. But Miss Terry did not stop at the fire-place. She +drew Mary to the window which looked out on the sidewalk. Above the lower +sash Mary saw the remains of a burned-out Christmas candle; and over it +hung a pink papier-mache Angel stretching out open arms towards her. + +"This is the Christmas Angel, Mary," said Miss Terry. "He is as old as +Miranda--" + +"He is as old as Christmas," interrupted Tom, looking in from the hall. + +"When we were children, Tom and I, we hung him on our Christmas tree," went +on Miss Terry. "We think he brought you to us. We believe he has changed +the world for us,--has brought us peace, good-will, and happiness. He is +going to be the guardian angel of our house. You must love him, Mary." + +"How beautiful he is!" said Mary reverently. "His face shines like the +Baby's that I saw once in the Church. Oh, Miss Angelina! He is like the +Christ-Child himself!" + +"Call me Aunt Angelina," said Miss Terry with a quick breath. + +"Aunt Angelina," cried the child, throwing her arms about Miss Terry's +neck. + +Tom came and put his great furry coat-sleeves about them both. "And Uncle +Tom," he said. + +"Dear Uncle Tom!" whispered the child shyly. + +There were tears in the eyes of all three. + +"Now we shall live happy ever after," said Tom. + +And the Christmas Angel beamed upon them. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Christmas Angel, by Abbie Farwell Brown + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL *** + +***** This file should be named 15709.txt or 15709.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/7/0/15709/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Elaine Walker and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/15709.zip b/15709.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a3b0382 --- /dev/null +++ b/15709.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1270c6e --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #15709 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/15709) |
