-old on her knee and an older child
beside her. The two children were looking into their mother's face and
listening to a story. She must have been telling them a Christmas story,
I think. A few bright coals were burning in the fireplace, and all
seemed light and warm within.

The little wanderer crept closer and closer to the window-pane. So sweet
was the mother's face, so loving seemed the little children, that at
last he took courage and tapped gently, very gently on the door. The
mother stopped talking, the little children looked up. "What was that,
mother?" asked the little girl at her side. "I think it was some one
tapping on the door," replied the mother. "Run as quickly as you can and
open it, dear, for it is a bitter cold night to keep any one waiting in
this storm." "Oh, mother, I think it was the bough of the tree tapping
against the window-pane," said the little girl. "Do please go on with
our story." Again the little wanderer tapped upon the door. "My child,
my child," exclaimed the mother, rising, "that certainly was a rap on
the door. Run quickly and open it. No one must be left out in the cold
on our beautiful Christmas Eve."

The child ran to the door and threw it wide open. The mother saw the
ragged stranger standing without, cold and shivering, with bare head and
almost bare feet. She held out both hands and drew him into the warm,
bright room. "You poor, dear child," was all she said, and putting her
arms around him, she drew him close to her breast. "He is very cold, my
children," she exclaimed. "We must warm him." "And," added the little
girl, "we must love him and give him some of our Christmas, too." "Yes,"
said the mother, "but first let us warm him--"

The mother sat down by the fire with the little child on her lap, and
her own little ones warmed his half-frozen hands in theirs. The mother
smoothed his tangled curls, and, bending low over his head, kissed the
child's face. She gathered the three little ones in her arms and the
candle and the fire light shone over them. For a moment the room was
very still. By and by the little girl said softly, to her mother,
"May we not light the Christmas tree, and let him see how beautiful it
looks?" "Yes," said the mother. With that she seated the child on a
low stool beside the fire, and went herself to fetch the few simple
ornaments which from year to year she had saved for her children's
Christmas tree. They were soon so busy that they did not notice