“Oh, they’re not such bad chaps after all,” the captain says.
At the beginning of Christmas week there is the muffled sound at night of the bands in various parts of the camp practising inside their booths. Oskar comes to the door of the farm-house to say that they intend to play in unison, and want the “Woman of Knockaloe” to choose the carols and hymns for them. Mona chooses what she knows. “Noël,” “The Feast of Stephen,” and “Lead, Kindly Light.”
“Splendid!” says Oskar. He is to be the conductor in Compound Three.
Snow falls, then comes frost, and on Christmas Eve the ground of the black camp is white and hard, and a moon is shining—a typical Christmas.
Mona has had a bustling day, but at nine she is finished and goes upstairs to sit with her father. The old man, who is in bed, has heard something of her activities, and is not too well pleased with them.
“What’s coming over thee, girl?” he keeps on repeating. “What’s coming over thee anyway?”
“Goodness sakes, why ask me that, dad? It’s Christmas, isn’t it?”
Having three hours to wait, she sits by the fire and reads to him—from the Gospels this time:
“And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them; and they were sore afraid.
“And the angel said unto them, Fear not; for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.