Then an idea struck him, and he darted away through the churchyard gate into their own garden. There he found Foster sweeping up the leaves on the paths.
"Thought I'd come a bit earlier and tidy-up for Christmas. I'm a-goin' to dig up your tree, Master Noel, this afternoon."
Noel did not hear him. He was standing in front of his tree talking to it earnestly:
"Your grand day is nearly here, you know, and very soon you'll be the most important person in the house, but I reely fink a part of you must be a birfday present to Jesus. You'd like to be right in God's house, wouldn't you? Just a bit of you, it's only like having your hair cut. It won't reely hurt you."
Then he called out to Foster to come and help him. But when Foster heard that he wanted to cut off one of the branches, he shook his head.
"Don't 'ee do it, Master Noel, 'twill spoil the look of it. You wouldn't go for making it just a guy, when it's grown so nice all round."
"It's to go into the church," said Noel firmly. "Mr. Wargrave is putting all the nicest holly and flowers there, and my Chris'mas tree would like to be there, too. Not the whole of him, only a bit."
So after some further discussion a branch was cut off, and Noel bore it into the church with a mixture of reverence and pride in his heart.
If it had been a casket of gold or of precious stones, it could not have been given into the vicar's hands with more solemnity of purpose.
"It's my darling tree. He wants a bit of himself to be in church. It's a present for Jesus."