“The organist, wild with delight over the heavenly music, coming from he knew not where, followed gently with the organ accompaniment, the flute-like tones blending with the bird notes of the boy.
“Higher and higher soared the voice of the Christmas Angel, while the people gazed entranced. Such tender sweetness it had never been their privilege to hear.
“Surely the Baby Jesus was being lulled to sleep by the angelic music, which at last slowly and gently died away.
“A moment of tense silence was followed by a rustle; the tension was broken and Jack swung himself back to the gallery, to be greeted by many outstretched hands.
“He had many questions to answer and before the child realised it, he had told the story of limp stockings hanging by the chimneyside at home, and how hard he had tried to fill them.
“His pathetic tale, together with his daring efforts to quench the fire and avert a panic, moved many to tears.
“You all know what followed. How he was driven home in state in a grand sleigh drawn by a pair of prancing horses, and how his new-found friends not only filled the stockings, but then and there engaged him as soloist of the boy choir at such a salary that his mother need work no more, and they were all comfortable and happy for many a day.
“And now good-bye, and I wish you a very Merry Christmas.”
With that the Story Elf vanished, and her audience chorused: