"'Good-night, mother,' he said, stooping to give her a rough kiss; 'but it is hard to be hungry.'
"When the little door had closed upon her children the mother sat down in a chair with her hands drooping in her lap. Then she wiped away the unwonted tears as she looked round at the package on the table, and then back at the bright text in front of her. It was that text which had softened her heart, and made her cry. It was that text which had suddenly reminded her of old days when she had thought more of these things than she did now.
"'Come unto Me, all ye that are heavy laden.'
"The tired, worried, over-wrought mother buried her face in her hands. Long she sat and wept.
"'I thought He had forgotten me,' she whispered. And then she rose up and made the room ready for the father, repeating softly to herself all the while, 'I will give you rest, I will give you rest.'
"After some time, much later than she had expected, the well-known footstep was heard at the door.
"The mother knew before the father entered that the foot bore a more cheerful sound than had been of late, and his words corroborated her thought.
"'Well, wife, so here you are all alone! Why, so they're all gone to roost!'
"To get the sooner to Christmas-day," answered the mother, her eyes falling, as his did, on the table scattered over with the things they had received.
"They needed very little explanation, and meanwhile the father was fumbling in his pocket for something, which he now laid on the table by his wife.