"Robin, did God send me my Christmas tree?"
"Yes, dear little sister. He put it into the hearts of those kind young ladies at Oaklands to get it ready for you; and they are all so glad to think you are having a happy Christmas. They are coming some day to see you, Corrie; and they have promised to bring you pretty flowers from the garden. Oh, mother, it made me so glad to bring home the tree yesterday, and the basket of meat and plum-pudding! Miss Clarice came down into the kitchen to watch her mamma and the housekeeper pack the things that were to be given away; and everybody was so kind and merry, that I wished I could run the whole way home to tell you about it."
"God bless them all!" murmured the widow. "I think they would be rewarded if they could see our darling now."
"Is the pretty wood you told me about like this, Robin?" said Corrie as she touched the spiky green.
"Yes, something like that, little sister, only ever so much taller. You look up and up, right through the green branches to the sky; and the trees stand all thick together, so snug and warm that the cold winds cannot hurt them. I wonder how the fir tree liked being dug up yesterday by Mr. Jonathan, and carried away from its companions? It could tell a pretty story after seeing all the grand things last night."
As Robin said this, a secret longing stole over him to have been there himself, to take one peep at the lighted rooms.
If he had, he would have seen a happy little girl carried in at the door, wrapped in a warm shawl; and Milly's smiling face would have revealed some of the gladness resting in her heart that forgetfulness of self and thought for others had awakened.
That castaway and seemingly useless fir branch had been as God's messenger, doing its work faithfully in both homes. It was like the olive branch of peace plucked off by the gentle dove that made Noah's heart glad, because it held the promise of a bright and living hope.
Milly joined in the general shout of admiration as children of every size and age trooped in from the hall.
"Father Christmas cut fruit from his wonderful tree for everybody that night; young and old, rich and poor, alike were remembered. To 'send portions unto them for whom nothing is prepared' is his special prerogative, as year after year he distributes his bounties, filling up the overflowing measure with plenty of hearty goodwill and Christmas cheer.