As soon as I told him what I wanted he ran and got a loaf of bread and a pie and some cakes, and gave it all to me; and then he put his hand in his pocket and turned it inside out, but there wasn't anything in it, and says he:
"Oh! little one, I'm as sorry as if I'd lost my grandmother; but I wish I hadn't spent all my Christmas, for I'd like to give you some money."
I thanked him very much and came away. As I was coming home I passed the grog-shop I spoke to you about. I heard loud, angry quarrelling and scuffling going on, and father's voice was among the rest. I was afraid to go away, for I did not like to leave father there to get hurt, and thought I had better go in and persuade him to come home with me. I had no sooner put my head in the door than the then who keeps the store told me to "be off, that he didn't want any beggars around his place."
"I don't want to beg," said I, "I want father," and just as I said that I saw a knife flash in the gaslight, and then—O my poor, mourning heart!—poor father staggered and reeled toward me, and as he saw me he cried out:
"Why, is it you, Little Sunbeam! O my God!" and then he fell down across the sill of the door, at my feet, dead.
You see, dear, good gentlemen, you must not be angry if I'm almost sorry it is Christmas. I know everybody ought to be happy when Christmas comes; and I saw a good many little boys and girls to-day as happy as I used to be, for I've been watching them through a little peep hole I scratched on the frosty window-pane, and it didn't seem real that they should be down there so happy, wishing each other "Merry Christmas," and I up here all alone, mourning in my heart. But you see what has done it all.
Do you think, dear, good gentlemen, that there are any other "Little Sunbeams" like me? Do you think there are any fathers that are changing like mine? Oh! please do run and tell them quick to stop and change back again, or they will get poor like mother and me, and have to live up in a cold, bare garret, and Santa Claus won't come down the chimney on Christmas eve, because their children won't have any stockings to hang up, and they will feel so hungry and so cold in the night. Oh! I could tell them, and mother could tell them, as she tells me, that drink brings a black curse on a family, and that God is angry when he hears the drunkard's children crying for bread. I don't like to cry when I think of that, but I couldn't help it this morning because it is Christmas day.
It's all over now, I do so wish that mother was here to say thank ye for all those nice things, but she won't be home till night, for she's gone over to Mrs. Nabob's to work, where they are to have a great party. But when she comes back I'll tell her all about it, and when we say our prayers to-night we'll ask God to bless the good, kind gentleman who thought about coming here to wish us a Merry Christmas.