"No, Christmas with us is not nearly so important as the New Year. Oh, yes;
I generally have to put on my Sunday dress, and then I can't play, for
Teresa is afraid I'll soil it."
"Oh," said Paula whose great eyes seemed to contemplate an invisible splendor. "In my country we always had a Christmas-tree, and celebrated the birth of the Lord Jesus."
"Tell me about it," I said, "I have heard about these Christmas celebrations, but have never seen any."
"Well," said Paula, "sit down here, close to the fire, and I'll tell you what we did last year. Four of our men went to the mountains and cut down a beautiful pine tree. They had to go up to their waists in snow, and what a job it was to bring it all the way down to Villar. But they were all very strong. My father was one of them. They dragged the tree into the church because there wouldn't have been room for everybody in the little school-house. We all helped to decorate it with gold and silver nuts, and we hung apples and oranges everywhere on its branches. But the beautiful part were the candles. There were hundreds of them in blue, green, red, white and yellow. If you could only have seen how beautiful it was, Lisita, when the candles were lit, especially when they crowned the top of the tree with a lovely white angel. We sang the wonderful Christmas hymns. Then the pastor gave us a fine talk about the Saviour. At the close, each of us children was given an apple, an orange, a little bag of sweets, and a beautiful little book."
"Oh," said I, "how happy I should be if father would let us go to see it all. It must be a beautiful country!"
"It is the most beautiful in the world," Paula assured me, her eyes sparkling.
"We too shall go and live there when we grow up; shall we not, Paula?"
"Yes, indeed, Lisita."
"You know, Paula, father always gives us a New Year's present," as I saw tears come into Paula's eyes as she thought of her old home. "What would you like to have if you could choose?"
"There's just one thing I want," said Paula, "and that's my little Bible."