“Dear! dear!” he said reflectively, “what a blessing that these are not lost! How the babies would have cried at being forced to go to bed half an hour sooner on Christmas night! And the Anthem would have been cut short on the blessed morning too, and the bells been cheated of their chime. It’s a great mercy I have got them safely back.”
“Good-by! good-by!” cried the children, following him to the door.
He stooped, and kissed both the round faces.
“Good-by!” he said. “Remember Christmas Eve.”
“‘O Katchen!’ she said, ‘where have you been?’”
CONCLUSION.
WHAT WAS ON THE TREE.
IT was with heavy hearts that Max and Thekla prepared on Christmas Eve to fulfil their promise to the kind Month. Only six days lay between them and the dreaded separation; for on the New Year the Ranger was to come, and it was hard to be hopeful and patient while such sorrow drew near. There was no laughter, no frolic, as they dragged in the great fir-bough, and set it up against the door where December had directed. When it was placed, they pulled their stools to the fire and remained for a while quite silent. Both were thinking of the kind old hands which last year had hung nuts and apples on the tree, and helped to light the Christmas candles. There were no tapers now, no filberts, or green and rosy fruits,—only the fir-bough with its damp, fresh smell, and themselves sitting sadly beside the hearth.
