“Have some more?” said Martuin, refilling the cup.
“Are you expecting anyone?” asked Stephanwitch. “I see you keep turning to look on the street.”
“I am ashamed to tell you whom I expect. I am, and I am not, expecting someone. You see, brother, I was reading about the Christ and how He walked on earth and I thought, ‘If He came to me, should I know how to receive Him?’ and I heard a voice, ‘Be on the watch, I shall come to-morrow.’ It is absurd, yet would you believe it, I am expecting Him, the Christ-child.”
Stephanwitch shook his head but said nothing.
Martuin filled his guest’s cup with hot tea and continued, “You see I have an idea He would come to the simple people. He picked out His disciples from simple working people like us. Come, brother, have some more tea.”
But Stephanwitch rose. “Thanks to you, Martuin, for treating me kindly and warming me, soul and body.”
“You are welcome, brother, come again.”
Stephanwitch departed. Martuin put away the dishes and sat down by the window to stitch on a patch. He kept looking out as he stitched.
Two soldiers passed by; one wore boots that Martuin had made; then the master of the next house; then a baker. Then there came a woman in woolen stockings and wooden shoes. Martuin looked up through the window. He saw she was a stranger poorly clad in shabby summer clothes. She had turned her back to the wind and was trying to shelter a little child who was crying.
Martuin went to the door and called out, “Why are you standing there in the cold? Come into my room where it is warm.”