‘Shall I take one of my best shoes, Grand’mère?’ asked Anne Marie, ‘my shiny shoes with the gray tops? Or would you take one of my everyday brown shoes, do you think?’
‘The best shoe, perhaps,’ answered Grand’mère, ‘though little Noel is not one to scorn a shabby shoe.’
‘Then I will take my everyday shoe,’ decided Anne Marie, after a moment’s thought. ‘It is not kind on Christmas Eve to take the best shoe because it is the prettiest. Sometimes the shiny shoes pinch me, and the brown ones never do. Then, too, the brown shoe is the larger,’ added Anne Marie.
Down beside the hearth went the brown shoe to wait for little Noel, and Anne Marie made ready to light her Christmas candle.
‘This is for the little Noel,’ Anne Marie told Polly softly, as Grand’mère in the window pinned the curtains safely back and raised the shade. ‘He will come to earth to-night, and in the dark and cold my candle in the window may be the very light he needs to guide him on his way.’
The candle lighted and Anne Marie tucked in bed, Grand’mère put out all other lights and crept away.
Beside the bed on a chair sat Polly Perkins, holding the little fairy dancer in her lap.
Of course, Anne Marie meant not to go to sleep. She meant to stay awake and at least hear the little Noel moving about, even though she were not able to have a peep at him. Perhaps, too, Maman would come in to say good-night before she went to the ball.
The candle burned steadily, sending out a clear yellow light.
‘Dear little Christ Child, dear little Noel,’ thought Anne Marie drowsily. ‘Will he see my candle, I wonder, to-night? Will he come down the long, long way from heaven, the long, long way—’