Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia,
Christ the Saviour is born.”
Was Heaven, of which Maggie had told him such wonderful things, any better than this, or the children there happier than these whose faces looked so eager and expectant as they went up to the tree, and so full of joy when they came back? They were calling the names very rapidly now, and Bennie held his breath to hear, and watched them anxiously. Wallie Morgan seemed to be a favored one, for he was called many times, and when he came back with a pair of red lines with little tinkling bells, Bennie exclaimed aloud, “Oh, if they’d only call me!”
Would they? Was there anything for him on that heavily laden tree? There were gifts for Johnnie and Jakie, and Susie and Freddie, and Sam, and yes,—certain and true, he heard his name at last, or something like it, and half started forward, when a rough boy caught his arm, saying, “’Tain’t you. It’s a gal.”
No, it was not Bennie, but it was Maggie, his sister, whose name he had heard and who received a Bible and a bundle of something which looked like clothes.
“Maggie Hewitt; Maggie Hewitt,” Bennie heard a woman in front of him say. “That is a new name. Who is she?”
“Oh, some waif Miss Nellie has picked up, I dare say,” was the reply. “She is always doing such things, you know. Isn’t she beautiful to-night with that long feather and jaunty sacque?”
Bennie thought she was beautiful and watched her admiringly as she moved among her pupils, sharing their joy and occasionally trying to repress their wild spirits. Johnnie and Jakie and Tommie again, and Susie and Katie and Anne, but no Bennie Hewitt; he had been forgotten; there was nothing for him, and with a choking, gasping sensation he stood, holding fast to the pew railing in front of him, while the grand old anthem Glory to God on High, rang through the church, and the final prayer was said. But the music and the prayer were nothing to him now; faith in Bethlehem’s baby was gone, and his little heart was as empty of happiness as the tall tree was of gifts, and as full of bitter disappointment as the church was of people, all moving out and crowding him as they went. Maggie had been near the chancel with Miss Morgan’s class, and when at last she came there were few left in the church, and these were gathered about the rector, near the tree.
“Oh, Ben, see what I’ve got; a bran-new gown,” Maggie said, as she caught sight of her brother.
At the sound of her voice Bennie’s pent-up grief gave way, and a low, piteous, wailing cry reached the ear of Nellie Morgan, who, in a moment was at Bennie’s side asking what was the matter.