Into the _Mont de Piete_, breathless, eager. The ticket? Here, worn,
crumpled. The ring? It was not gone? No, thank Heaven! It was really a
joy well worth her toil, she thought, to have it again.

Had Titiche not been shooting crackers on the banquette instead of
peering into the crack, as was his wont, his big, round, black eyes
would have grown saucer-wide to see little Miss Sophie kiss and fondle a
ring, an ugly clumsy band of gold.

"Ah, dear ring," she murmured, once you were his, and you shall be his
again. You shall be on his finger, and perhaps touch his heart. Dear
ring, _ma chere petite, de ma coeur, cheri, de ma coeur. Je t'aime, je
t'aime, oui, oui._ You are his, you were mine once too. To-night, just
one night, I'll keep you--then--tomorrow, where you can save him.

"Ah, the Virgin--she smiles at me because I did right, did I not sweet
mother? She smiles--and--I grow--faint--"

The loud whistles and horns of the little ones rose on the balmy air
next morning. No one would doubt it was Christmas Day, even if doors
and windows are open wide to let in cool air.

Why, there was Christmas even in the very look of the mules on the poky
cars; there was Christmas noise in the streets, and Christmas toys and
Christmas odors, savory ones that made the nose wrinkle approvingly,
issuing from the kitchen. Michel and Mme. Laurent smiled greetings
across the street at each other, and the salutation from a passer-by
recalled the many progenied landlady to herself.

"Miss Sophie, well, poor soul, not very much Christmas for her. _Mais_,
I'll just call her in to spend the day with me. It'll cheer her a bit."

So clean and orderly within the poor little room. Not a speck of dust or
a litter of any kind on the quaint little old-time high bureau, unless
you might except a sheet of paper lying loose with something written on
it. Titiche had evidently inherited his prying propensities for the
landlady turned it over and read:

"Louis. Here is the ring. I return it to you. I heard you needed it, I
hope it comes not too late. Sophie."

"The ring, where?" muttered the landlady. There it was, clasped between
her fingers on her bosom. A bosom, white and cold, under a cold, happy
face. Christmas had indeed dawned for Miss Sophie--the eternal
Christmas.

IF I HAD KNOWN.

If I had known
Two years ago how drear this life should be,
And crowd upon itself allstrangely sad,
Mayhap another song would burst fr