deserted.
Miss Terry caught the faint sound of singing. The choristers were passing
through a neighboring street, and doubtless all wayfarers within hearing of
their voices were following in their wake.

She was thoroughly interested in her grim joke, but she was becoming
impatient. Were there to be no more passers? Must the doll stay there
unreclaimed until morning? Presently she became aware of a child's figure
drawing near. It was a little girl of about ten, very shabbily dressed,
with tangled yellow curls hanging over her shoulders. There was something
familiar about her appearance, Miss Terry could not say what it was. She
came hurrying along the sidewalk with a preoccupied air, and seemed about
to pass the steps without seeing the package lying there. But just as she
was opposite the window, her eye caught the gleam of the white paper. She
paused. She looked at it eagerly; it was such a tempting package, both as
to its size and shape! She went closer and bent down to examine it. She
took it into her bare little hands and seemed to squeeze it gently. There
is no mistaking the contours of a doll, however well it may be enveloped in
paper wrappings. The child's eyes grew more and more eager. She glanced
behind her furtively; she looked up and down the street. Then with a sudden
intuition she looked straight ahead, up the flight of steps.

[Illustration: SHE LOOKED UP AND DOWN THE STREET]

Miss Terry read her mind accurately. She was thinking that probably the
doll belonged in that house; some one must have dropped the package while
going out or in. Would she ring the bell and return it? Miss Terry had
not thought of that possibility. But she shook her head and her lip curled.
"Return it? Of course not! Ragged children do not usually return promising
packages which they have found,--even on Christmas Eve. Look now!"

Once more the child glanced stealthily behind her, up and down the street.
Once more she looked up at the dark house before her, the only black spot
in a wreath of brilliancy. She did not see the face peering at her through
the curtains, a face which scanned her own half wistfully. What was to
become of Miranda? The little girl thrust the package under her ragged coat
and ran away down the street as fast as her legs could take her.

"A thief!" cried Miss Terry. "That is the climax. I have detected a child
taking what she knew did not belong to her, on Christmas Eve! Where are all
their Sunday School le