y failed. The late afternoon faded into evening. Gray
twilight stole swiftly down. For a while the white fields of snow
outside reflected a vague dimness; then night came with a noiseless
rush, closing up the entrance to the cave with a wall of blackness.

Perched on the Woman's shoulder the robin dozed. She still went on
singing. How long he had been dozing he had no means of telling. He
was wakened by a multitudinous rustling, as of a crowd assembling and
drawing nearer. At first he thought that it was some of the more
persistent of the animals, coming once more to urge the Woman to tell
them how babies happened. Then, of a sudden, he knew that he had been
mistaken. The gloom of the cave was lit up by a glowing brightness.
Peering across the threshold, with all the haloed hosts of Heaven
tiptoeing behind her, was the Virgin Mary. It was the crowd of haloes
that was causing so much brightness.

Stepping to the Woman's side, she gazed down longingly at the small
God-Man.

"I want one. Oh, I want one so badly," she murmured.

The angels, thronging behind her, folded their wings and repeated her
words, "So badly! So badly!" The sound was like a prayer, dying out in
the void which spreads between earth and Heaven.

"Let me hold him," she begged.

Because she was the Virgin, even though it might wake him, the Woman did
not dare to refuse her. But she asserted her authority, as all mothers
must, by pretending that she was the only person who knew how to hold
him properly. And perhaps she was the only one at that moment, for there
was no other mother besides herself in earth or Heaven. She showed the
Virgin how to support his little head because it was wobbly; and how to
keep one arm beneath his back because it was weak; and how he liked to
be cuddled against her breast because it was warm and cushiony. And
then, becoming generous, she taught her the silly little lullaby.

"I shall never go back to Heaven," the Virgin whispered. "I shall stay
here always and help you nurse him."

"Never go back to Heaven," the angels echoed; "stay here always."

The Woman's eyes became troubled. "But I want him to myself," she
faltered. "I don't want helping." Then she ceased to frown, for she had
discovered a stronger argument. "Besides, what about God? You wouldn't
leave Him all by Himself in Heaven. He'd be lonely."

The Virgin nodded her head vigorously. "I would, for I also am a woman.
There are no babies in Heaven. I couldn't