"The angel of the Lord came down,"—chimed the mellow bells.
The chiming died out.
"Christ is born," said the child. "You heard the bells?"
"Yes," said Livingstone humbly.
"It's all done," she said; "and I prayed so hard that not one of them stirred, and now when they wake they'll think it was real Santa Claus. They say he always comes at twelve and I counted the clocks.—I wonder if he went home?" She was speaking now to herself; but Livingstone answered.
"I'm sure of it," he said.
"The angel of the Lord came down," still chimed in his ears.
Suddenly a little warm hand was slipped into his confidingly.
"I think we'd better go home now." The voice was full of deep content.
Livingstone's hand closed on hers and as he said "Yes," he was conscious of a pang at the thought of giving her up.