“And what is your own name, dear?” asked Elsa, for the dark-eyed child interested her greatly.
“Iona,” the soft voice answered very distinctly.
“Come, come, Elsa! It is time to start,” her Uncle Ned said, hurrying up to her and trying to be very gruff. His face was quite red under its tanned colour, and he was biting the ends of his moustache savagely.
But just then, at a signal from the head-nurse, the children began to sing their Christmas carol:
“Once in royal David’s city
Stood a lowly cattle shed,
Where a mother laid her baby,
In a manger for his bed;
Mary was that mother mild,
Jesus Christ her little child.