"For you!" said the man. "Well, to be sure! So you are the angel, are you? All right, here's your basket!" And he was gone before they could ask more.
The basket was opened with some difficulty, for it was tightly tied up, and then Angel and her mother put out the contents on the table amidst many exclamations.
There was first a plum-pudding, then a number of oranges and apples, then a large cake, and then a pretty Christmas card, with a picture of a robin hopping about in the snow, and these words printed on it, "A Happy Christmas to you all."
"Where can they all have come from?" said little Angel, as one good thing after another came out of the basket. At the very bottom of the basket they found a tiny note.
"This will tell us about it," said Mrs. Blyth. "Why, it's directed to you, Angel!"
So Angel's mother sat down, stirred the fire, spelt it carefully out, and read it aloud by the firelight.
"MY DEAR LITTLE ANGEL,"
"I send you a few little things for Christmas
Day. I hope you will have a very happy day. Do not
forget whose Birthday it is. Your friend,"
"MABEL DOUGLAS."
"Whose birthday is it, mother?" asked little Angel.
"The Lord Jesus Christ's," said her mother reverently. "Did I never tell you that, little Angel? It's the day we think about Him being born a little baby at Bethlehem."
