IV—CHRISTMAS GIFTS
Soon the Monks came into the chapel to practise singing some new Christmas carols. There sat the near-sighted Monk, holding the big doll in his arms.
“Behold a miracle,” he said, holding up the doll. “Thou wilt remember that there was one doll planted which did not come up. Behold, in her place I have found this doll on crutches, which is—alive!”
“It is indeed a miracle,” said the Monk who was a doctor. He took the child in his arms and looked at the twisted ankle. “I think I can cure this lameness,” he said.
“Take her, then,” said the abbot, “and we will sing our Christmas carols joyously in her honor.”
Peter, of course, heard the Monks talking about the miracle, and he knew what it meant. He was very unhappy to think that he was deceiving them. At the same time he did not dare to tell them for fear the doctor would not try to cure his sister.
He worked hard picking the Christmas presents, and getting them ready for Santa Claus.
On Christmas Eve he was called into the chapel. The walls were covered with evergreen, and Christmas candles shone everywhere. There were Christmas wreaths in all the windows, and the Monks were singing a Christmas carol.
On a chair covered with green branches sat Peter’s little sister, dressed in white, with a wreath of holly berries on her head.
When the carol was ended, the Monks formed in a line with the abbot at the head. Each one had his hands full of the most beautiful Christmas presents. The abbot held a wax doll, the biggest and prettiest that grew in the garden.
When he held it out to the little girl, she drew back, and said in her sweet little voice, “Please, I’m not a miracle; I’m only Peter’s little sister.”
“Peter?” said the abbot; “the Peter who works in our garden?”
“Yes,” said the little sister.
The Monks looked at each other in dismay. This was not a miracle, it was only Peter’s little sister!
But the abbot of the Christmas Monks spoke to them. “This little girl did not come up in the place of the wax doll, and she is not a miracle. But she is sweet and beautiful, and we all love her.”
“Yes,” said the Christmas Monks, and they laid their presents down before her.
Peter was so happy he danced for joy. And when he found his little sister was cured of her lameness, he did not know what to do.
In the afternoon he took his sister and went home to see his father and mother. Santa Claus filled his sleigh with gifts and drove his reindeer down to the cottage.
Oh! it was such a happy day. There was so much to tell that they all talked at once. There was so much to see that their eyes ached with looking.
But in the palace of the King it was very different. The Prince was cross and unhappy. His old toys were broken. He was tired of his old games. There was no one for him to play with, and he didn’t have one single Christmas gift.
—Mary E. Wilkins (abridged and adapted).