Away down in an obscure street, where you would not look for anything kind or beautiful, lived a brother and sister, who made each other very happy in their love. Their names were Johnny and Susan. Johnny was a lame, sick boy, who could not run out of doors and play like other children. It was Christmas morning there too, even, and early had Susan, his sister, awoke to think of the pleasant visit she should make in the afternoon at her teacher's house; and she had even stolen from her bed up to Johnny's bedside to see if he, too, was awake; and when she saw that he was awake and his countenance thoughtful, they began to talk together about the day's pleasure, and how Susan was to remember everything to tell it over by night to Johnny.
"O," said Susan, "to think how beautiful it will be, and I never in a fine house before, and the two sixpences we have earned this week! How glad shall I be to put them in my teacher's
hand! Johnny dear," said the little Susan, looking tenderly on her poor brother, "do you not think you need the sixpence yourself? I could buy you a sweet orange, or something nice for you to eat, it is so long since you had anything but bread and water."
"No," said Johnny, "I'd rather much give it to the Christ-child. I love to lie here and think about it, and of those children so far away, who will be glad when they, too, know of this beautiful day. I think of them so much that I love them, Susan, and I wish I had more than the sixpence to send them."
Susan busied herself in preparing the breakfast of bread and water, and then, when it was over and the work done up, she sat down by the side of Johnny's bed, and read to him out of the little book she had brought from her Sunday-school; and Johnny forgot, in the quiet peace of the day, how hard it was to lie still upon the bed, when he so often longed to run out and play; thoughts of love came into his heart, and tears of gentleness into his eyes.
Their dinner was very different from the one
Helen had eaten; but they were happy, their hearts were full of expectation,—and Susan had got herself quite ready, and, wrapping the two pieces of silver in a piece of paper, she kissed Johnny, and set off on her way to the teacher's house.
But when Susan came among the children there, somehow they all shunned her. In their plays, if they had occasion to speak to her, they passed on quickly, with a suppressed smile and hurried glance on each other. If, by any means, she spoke to them, they looked upon her in astonishment, without answering her words. They often whispered one to another, casting curious looks upon her; so she knew easily they spoke of her. What could it mean? What had she done?
I cannot answer this well. She had a gentle, sweet face; her manners were neither rude nor obtrusive, and when she spoke, though her tones were low, half fearful and trembling, still were her words as kind and polite, if not kinder and politer, than those of the other children.