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.
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