Louis looked very grave; he turned and took up his picture of the Christ-child. It was prettily framed, and the inscription, with its letters of red, blue, and gold, encircled it like a glory. Alice had used German letters and the German version.
“Ehre sei Gott in der Höhe, und Friede auf Erden, und den Menschen ein Wohlgefallen.”
“I could not be a Christ-kind if Fritz took them in,” he said.
Sally Price, who was busy over the frying-pan, while Polly stirred up the bread-sponge for the daily baking, which, as they had three families to provide for, might not be omitted, even on Christmas Day,—Sally Price dropped her iron spoon and held up her hands.
“Well, if I ever did!” she said. “Do you want to be a Christ-child, you angel?”
“Papa said I might, and Dr. Richards said, last night, the little boy in the picture looked like me, and I must try to be like him.”
“Law!” interposed Susan, “I thought the doctor was one of these infidels.”
“Infidel or not,” said Miss Sally, “he acts like a mighty good Christian.”
“But talkin’ like that, Sister Sally”—
“Talk! anybody can talk: and infidels often talk louder than Christians, about imitatin’ the Saviour, and such like. I s’pose they think nobody can keep ‘em up to it, if they don’t want to be kep’; while a member of the Church daren’t say much, for fear of folks sayin’ he has back-slid if he don’t live up to it.”