"Shall we two get up early, very early in the morning, like the shepherds did, and go and look in our manger if He 's there?" asked Rhoda.
"Oh, yes, yes!" answered Joan, almost wild with delight. "Oh! Rhoda, only suppose the baby should be there!"
Long before old Nathan was stirring, or anyone else in the house was awake, Rhoda and Joan crept quietly down their own little staircase, and after lighting the candle in Nathan's great horn lantern, they let down the bar of the house-door and stepped out into the fold. It was very dark, but the dim light from the lantern sparkled upon a fine hoar-frost, which lay like silver on the causeway and glittered on every straw scattered about the yard. Not a sound was to be heard, except a very soft, low moan from the sea, and that they listened for as they stood still on the doorstep. Joan's heart was beating fast, and her small fingers clasped Rhoda's hand tightly as they stole along the causeway to the cow-shed just beyond the barn.
The cow-shed was divided into two, and they passed through the outer one, where the cows were lying in their stalls, and turned their large, sleepy eyes upon the two girls, as if to inquire why they were disturbed so early. In the little shed beyond the fodder and the hay were kept, and the stalls were empty. The barn opened into it, and the deep black space under the high roof of the barn served to deepen the delicious awe in Joan's little heart. Rhoda herself trembled a little with a strange feeling of seeking something which possibly might be found. She had never realised so vividly that the Lord Jesus Christ was indeed born in a stable and cradled in a manger; and she trod softly, with her heart beating, like Joan's, faster than usual.
They stood still for a minute on the low door-sill, their lantern casting its dim rays into the silent shed. Behind them was the deep breathing of the cows, and the slow sound of their munching, and all about them was the sweet, familiar scent of the hay. But this silent, empty spot, half lit up by the lantern, seemed a strange, unfamiliar place they hardly dared to enter. Rhoda lingered with a vague awe in her heart, whilst little Joan grasped her hand as if in terror.
"Let us sing 'Hark! the herald angels!'" whispered Rhoda.
Very softly, with a timid and tremulous voice, Rhoda began the hymn, and little Joan took it up in an undertone. They sang the verses through, gathering courage as they did so. Then with solemn steps they approached the manger and raised the lantern to look into its cradle lined with hay. It was empty.
"I suppose Mary is gone somewhere else," said little Joan, half grieved; "it was n't in her way to come here, p'rhaps, or you and me we'd have been so glad, Rhoda!"
"Perhaps she 'll come next Christmas," answered Rhoda. "We 'll come and look every Christmas morning, and sing our hymn, and perhaps we shall find them some time—Mary, and Joseph, and the babe, wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in the manger. Now we'll go back, and wake up aunty, and tell her all about it."