The Angel Children / or, Stories from Cloud-Land

by Charlotte M. Higgins

Poor Susan! and she had thought to be so happy that afternoon; she had anticipated only

kindly faces, and loving glances, and kind hands stretched out to her in the plays. For once she had thought to mingle with those pretty children as if they had been her sisters, and, when she went back to dear Johnny, to tell him of their loving words. But now—what! could she tell Johnny, to grieve him, of the sad afternoon she was passing? She looked upon them more closely, trying to find out what it was that separated her from them. 'Tis true she wore no bright plaid dress and delicate cloth boots; she wore no bracelets on her arm; she had not found them in her stocking that morning. There was no necklace about her neck; her hair was not bright and curling; yet, still, what could be the reason they shunned her so?

Susan tremblingly looked over her own dress. Her gown was scanty and of cotton, her pantalets were long and narrow, but they were the best she had; her mother had made them long ago, and Susan had so carefully preserved them. On her feet she wore thick leather shoes; but she knew how the money had been saved, little by little, from week to week, that they might be bought. If they were thick, it was that they might last the

longer; and her hair was combed smoothly over her brow and braided on her neck. Her hands, it is true, were not delicate, like theirs—they were hard and red; but they had become so in working for the home, to keep it clean, and working early and late, that the mother might not be detained from her work out, and that the lame, sick brother should have no little want unsupplied.

And was it that her hands were red and her clothes coarse that the children shunned her—even, too, before they looked into her little home, and saw what she did there, how she comforted Johnny, and swept clean the floor, and even found some time to read out of her books? Could they, with their bright frocks and rosy cheeks, have such very weak and wicked causes for their displeasure against this poor child? Could they so willingly hurt her heart, when she had come from so many days of toil to what she had thought would be a day of pleasure, so that she must often turn her head to wipe off the tears with her little red hand? And these children, had they come to honor the Christ-child?

Their teacher had watched their games, and saw

how they played among themselves, and cast out the little Susan from their play; and she thought that not only did they dishonor the Christ-child, but her who had brought them all together.

But Susan still thought of the Christmas-tree, the present it should bear for her, and how she should take hers home for Johnny; and she thought, too, of the two little sixpences done up in the paper in her pocket. Helen, too, was not unmindful of her bright gold-piece, and had taken good care to show it before the eyes of all the children; and Susan had seen it, and thought of Johnny,—how he had said he wished he had still more to send to the children so far away,—and she thought the little girl with the gold-piece must be happy enough to send it; and she began to feel half ashamed that she had no more money, and, as their unkind looks continued, she asked herself if she had any right to be there.

But the Christmas-tree was ready. A servant came in and closed tightly the shutters, so the room was all dark, and then the parlor-doors were thrown open, and there stood the tall, beautiful tree, with candles of all colors, which were

burning like so many stars, and above it hung the Christ-child, with a smile as of love, and his arms stretched out as he would call them to him. And on the tree were nice gifts, books and toys, pictures, and lace bags, tied with gay ribbons, filled with candies. But Helen, and all the children who had found rich gifts in their stockings that morning, turned indifferently from these, admiring the novelty of the Christmas-tree.