"When I think of the scores of times she has toiled up to my room here, in answer to my bell," said Jim, "and what dirty boots she has had to clean for me, I feel sorry I have no handsomer present to give her."
"She will be delighted," Mrs. Metherell declared. "Clara is a good girl, and she's a great help to me. I will send her upstairs to tidy up your room for you, Mr. Blewett. As to the turkey, and that big cake, which, if looks go for anything, must be simply delicious, I accept them gladly for the children, and the toys too. I won't say you ought not to have bought them, for I know it's a pleasure to you to give."
"When do you decorate the tree, Mrs. Metherell? I gave Clara my parcel of toys as I came in."
"Why, I shall begin as soon as I have taken off my bonnet and cloak. Would you care to come down to my sitting-room presently? I should be really glad if you would help me hang up the things, for I'm afraid I shall not have much taste in arranging them. Of course, sir, if you're going to work—"
"But I'm not. I don't feel a bit workish. There is nothing I should like better than to help you decorate the tree."
In another half hour the important business of the evening was in full swing. The tree, in its pot, was set in the middle of the floor in Mrs. Metherell's sitting-room, and the presents carefully secured thereto. It was an undoubtedly fortunate thing that the medical student was there, for neither the landlady nor Clara had the least idea how to display the different articles to the best advantage. It was on Jim that the work fell, and he was quite satisfied that it should be so. The presents were useful as well as ornamental, for Mrs. Metherell had knitted several warm comforters, and Clara had crocheted some pairs of cuffs in brilliantly coloured wools.
"There!" cried the young man at length, withdrawing to a little distance, to view his work the better. "I don't believe there'll be a prettier Christmas tree in all London. When the Chinese lanterns are lit up, it will look splendid!"
Mrs. Metherell and Clara eagerly agreed, the latter uttering exclamations of admiration and delight.
The girl was a regular Londoner, like her mistress, and had been brought up in a poor home in a wretched slum. Clara had seen nothing of the better side of life until she had come to live with Mrs. Metherell, who had taught her the meaning of that love which is the light of the world. She had been as ignorant of God as any heathen in a foreign land, and it had been given to her mistress to plant those seeds in the girl's heart which were, by God's grace, to take deep root and beautify her whole life. The Gospel Story poured into her ears by one who humbly tried to walk in the way that leads to eternal life had made so great an impression upon her that it had lightened each hard day's work and sweetened every breath she drew. She was growing in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, learning to trust in Him as her unfailing friend, and casting all her weakness upon Him.
The night out-doors was bright and frosty. The pale moon and twinkling stars looked down upon the great city with its riches and poverty, its goodness and sin, upon luxurious homes whose inmates had little thought for those to whom Christmas meant nothing, and—thank God—upon those too who busied themselves preparing for the happiness of others; upon reckless waste and terrible want, and deeds of self-sacrifice and deeds of love. And to all, gentle and simple, rich and poor, was coming the angels' message that for nineteen hundred years has resounded through all Christian lands, scoffed at by some, passed by unheeded by others, but here and there treasured up in some faithful hearts, bearing its tidings of joy and good will towards all mankind.