es they
were,--a pair of doves, a fine wool blanket, some eggs, some honey, some
late autumn fruits. Berachah had searched for the finest of his flock,--a
snow-white lamb. Across the hills toward Bethlehem in the quiet, star-lit
night they journeyed. As they moved silently along, the snow beneath their
feet was changed to grass and flowers, and the icicles which had dropped
from the trees covered their pathway like stars in the Milky Way.

Following at a distance, yet close enough to see them, came Madelon with
Melampo at her heels. Over the hills they travelled on until Madelon lost
sight of their own hillside. Farther and farther the shepherds went until
they passed David's well, and entered the city. Berachah led the way.

"How shall we know?" whispered Simon. And the others answered, "Hush, we
must await the sign."

When at last they had compassed the crescent of Bethlehem's hills, they
halted by an open doorway at a signal from their leader. "The manger,"
they joyfully murmured, "the manger! We have found the new-born King!"

One by one the shepherds entered. One by one they fell on their knees.
Away in the shadow stood the little girl, her hand on Melampo's head. In
wonder she gazed while the shepherds presented their gifts, and were
permitted each to hold for a moment the newborn Saviour.

Melampo, the shepherd dog, crouched on the ground, as if he too, like the
ox and the ass within, would worship the Child. Madelon turned toward the
darkness weeping. Then, lifting her face to heaven, she prayed that God
would bless Mother and Baby. Melampo moved closer to her, dumbly offering
his companionship, and, raising his head, seemed to join in her petition.
Once more she looked at the worshipping circle.

"Alas," she grieved, "no gift have I for the infant Saviour. Would that I
had but a flower to place in His hand."

Suddenly Melampo stirred by her side, and as she turned again from the
manger she saw before her an angel, the light from whose face illumined
the darkness, and whose look of tenderness rested on her tear-stained
eyes.

"Why grievest thou, maiden?" asked the angel.

"That I come empty-handed to the cradle of the Saviour, that I bring no
gift to greet Him," she murmured.

"The gift of thine heart, that is the best of all," answered the angel.
"But that thou mayst carry something to the manger, see, I will strike
with my staff upon the ground."

Wonderingly Madelon waited. From the dry earth wher