"What do we know; what did he know on earth? It was a mystery."
"It was all a mystery."
If there had been a clock to measure the hour it must now have been near midnight. Suddenly the fir below harped most tenderly:
"The children! What became of the children? Where did the myriads of them march to? What was the end of the march of the earth's children?"
"Be still!" whispered the fir above. "At that moment I felt the soft fingers of a child searching my boughs. Was not this what in human times they called Christmas Eve?"
"Hearken!" whispered the fir below. "Down in the valley elfin horns are blowing and elfin drums are beating. Did you hear that—faint and far away? It was the bells of the reindeer! It passed: it was the wandering soul of Christmas."
Not long after this the fir below struck its green harp for the last time:
"Comrade, it is the end for me. Good-night!"
Silently the snow closed over it.