The sun is glinting on the frosted snow scene; but Ruby is not looking at the snow scene. Her eyes are following the old, old words of the first Christmas carol: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men!”
“If there was only anybody to be kind to,” the little girl repeats slowly. “Dad and mamma don’t need me to be kind to them, and I am quite kind to Hans and Dick. If it was only in Scotland now; but it’s quite different here.”
The soft summer wind is swaying the window-blinds gently to and fro, and ruffling with its soft breath the thirsty, parched grass about the station. To the child’s mind has come a remembrance, a remembrance of what was “only a dream,” and she sees an old, old man, bowed down with the weight of years, coming to her across the moonlit paths of last night, an old man whom Ruby had let lie where he fell, because he was only “the wicked old one.”
“It was only a dream, so it didn’t matter.” Thus the little girl tries to soothe a suddenly awakened conscience. “And he is a wicked old one; Dick said he was.”
Ruby goes over to the window, and stands looking out. There is no change in the fair Australian scene; on just such a picture Ruby’s eyes have rested since first she came. But there is a strange, unexplained change in the little girl’s heart. Only that the dear Lord Jesus has come to Ruby, asking her for His dear sake to be kind to one of the lowest and humblest of His creatures.
The child gives an impatient wriggle. “If it was only anybody else,” she mutters. “But he’s so horrid, and he has such a horrid face. And I don’t see what I could do to be kind to such a nasty old man as he is. Besides, perhaps dad wouldn’t like me.”
“Good will toward men! Good will toward men!” Again the heavenly voices seem ringing in Ruby’s ears. There is no angel host about her to strengthen and encourage her, only one very lonely little girl who finds it hard to do right when the doing of that right does not quite fit in with her own inclinations. She has taken the first step upon the heavenly way, and finds already the shadow of the cross.
The radiance of the sunshine is reflected in Ruby’s brown eyes, the radiance, it may be, of something far greater in her heart.
“I’ll do it!” the little girl decides suddenly. “I’ll try to be kind to the ‘old one.’ Only what can I do?”
“Miss Ruby!” cries an excited voice at the window, and, looking out, Ruby sees Dick’s brown face and merry eyes. “Come ’long as quick as you can. There’s a fire, and you said t’other day you’d never seen one. I’ll get Smuttie if you come as quick as you can. It’s over by old Davis’s place.”