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.