Manuel heard and felt all this wondering. “What if there is not time for them to come, or gifts enough!” He laid an eager, pleading hand on one king’s mantle.
“I can hold the horses if you will come this once. It is a little street and hard to find, señores; I thought perhaps you would leave a present—just one little present for the children there. You told the Christ-child you would give to every child. Don’t you remember? There are many of us who have never had a gift—a Christmas gift.”
“Do you know who we are?”
Manuel answered, joyfully: “Oh yes, Excellencias, you are the Three Christmas Kings, riding from Bethlehem. Will you come with me?”
The kings spoke with one accord, “Verily, we will.”
One lifted Manuel on his horse; and silently they rode into the city. The Keeper slumbered at the gates; the streets were empty. On, past the houses that were garlanded they went unseen; and on through the great streets until they came to the little street at last. The kings dismounted. They gave their bridles into Manuel’s hand, and then, gathering up their precious mantles of silk and rich brocade, they passed down the little street. With eyes that scarce believed what they saw, Manuel watched them go from house to house, saw them stop and feel for the shoes between the gratings, the shoes loaned by Enrique, the cobbler, and saw them fill each one with shining gold pieces.
In the morning Manuel told the story to the children as they went to spend one golden doblon for toys and candy and sugared cakes. And a gift they brought for Doña Josefa, too; a little figure of the Holy Mother with the Christ-child in her arms.
And so the promise made in Bethlehem was made again, and to a little child; and it was kept. For many, many years, long after Manuel was grown and had niños of his own, the kings remembered the little street, and brought their gifts there every Christmas Eve.
There was a long silence after David had finished retelling the story to Barney and Johanna that night. The wind was howling outside and beating the snow in hard cakes against the windows.
“Sure, it’s up to some one to keep heart in those two till spring comes,” Johanna said at last. “Think o’ coming up here from one o’ them sizzling-hot places. Holy St. Patrick!”