And hungry little Rena ate a bun, sitting on the floor by the fire, for neither of the girls thought it worth while to set the table just for a single bun! And as Rena ate she talked of Christmas and Christmas trees, and asked Ruth to tell her again of the tree which she saw once, and which had on it a doll and a paper of candy for her. “Jesus’ birthday party” Rena called the Christmas eve festival, and as she warmed her blue hands by the fire, she wished that she might go to His “party” and get “oh, lots of things—some new shoes and stockings, and a doll that would squeak, and some mince pie, and that story of Jesus—only, Ruthy, I’d give them all to you, ’cause you goes in the cold, but I’d keep the book about the pretty Bethlehem child,” she said, as she stuck out her little feet with her ragged shoes and looked ruefully at them.
Poor little Rena, there were shoes and stockings both, just fitted to her cold feet, in the basket Aunt Hannah carried to the Oakfield church that afternoon, but Rena knew nothing of them, and she kept on talking to Ruth, asking finally what it was their mother had said about her old home in the country where there was grass in summer, with flowers and birds, and always enough to eat and “Jesus’ birthday party” every year in the church.
So Ruth told her again of the house of which she had heard so much from her mother; and Rena asked:
“If we’ve a grandpa and grandma there, why doesn’t they come for us? It’s so cold here, Ruthy, and I’s so hungry, too. I want the other bun so bad, and I’s savin’ it for you.”
There were great tears on Rena’s cheeks as she confessed that her hunger was greater than her spirit of self-denial could endure. She had meant to keep the other bun for Ruthy’s breakfast, but, as she said, she was “so hungry,” and Ruth made her eat it, and then to save the fire, they crept into bed, but not until their prayers were reverently said, Rena venturing to improvise a little and ask God “to send them a great big fire, which should make them, oh, as warm as toast—and let her sometime go to His Son’s birthday party and get something from the tree, please, for Christ’s sake; good night, and don’t let us be cold any more, amen.”
This was Rena’s prayer, and then nestling close to Ruth, she whispered, “God is here, isn’t He; in this room?”
“Yes,” was Ruth’s reply.
“And hears me pray when I say ‘please, for Christ’s sake?’ And I am sure he will, for mamma said so, and we’ll be warm to-morrow, Ruthy, you and I; oh, so warm, with a big fire—fire—for Christ’s sake—please.”
The words were far apart and indistinct for little Rena was fast falling into dreamland. But so long as consciousness remained, there was a prayer in her heart for “fire—a big fire to warm us, please.”
And God, who was there, in that humble room, and heard their prayer, answered it in His own way, which was not exactly little Rena’s way.