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.
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