go away."

The organist muttered, "Police," at which the child again sobbed
violently. "Yes, to the station-house, of course, he must go."

But Mrs. Morton remembered the three faces asleep on their pillows at
home, and as she looked at this tear-stained, dirty little gypsy, she
said to the organist, "I will take care of him to-night." So, under the
stars, the Christmas stars, gleaming so brightly, she led the little
wanderer home.

All was still and safe in the little house. "Not a creature was
stirring, not even a mouse." The fire still gleamed in the kitchen and
the sitting-room, and it was the work of only a few moments to divest
the little musician of his uncouth garments, to pop him into the tub of
hot suds, to scrub him well, until his lean little body shone like
bronze, to slip him into a night-gown, to give him a slice of bread and
butter, and then to tuck him up on the cozy lounge.

The children slept like tops, and the tired little mother was glad to
say her prayers, and lie down beside them.

The stars were still shining when she awoke; for Christmas-day would be
a busy one, and there were no moments to lose. Already the milkman was
at the door, and the hands of the kitchen clock pointed to six.

Hark! what was that?

A long, low, sweet sound, like a voice calling her. She listened, and
again it came. "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace,
good-will toward men," so it seemed to breathe. Then it rose in a gay
carol, a sweet gushing thanksgiving, and the children came tumbling down
in their night-gowns; they rushed to the door of the sitting-room, and
there beside his improvised bed stood the young musician, playing on his
violin as if all the world were his audience. His brown eyes flashed now
with light, and then grew dark and tender, as he drew the sweet sounds
out. The children gazed in wonderment: where had this child come from?
had he dropped from the stars? had an angel come among them? He played
on and on, until, from sheer fatigue, he put his instrument down. Then
Teddie and Clover and Daisy came about him; they touched his hands, his
curly locks, his violin, to see if all were real. Then they whirled
round the room in a mad dance of delight, for the mother had uncovered
the tree, and it was really Christmas morning.

Ah, what a happy day for poor little Toni! How nice he looked in
Teddie's clothes! how gentle he was with Daisy! how he frolicked with
Clover! and when Mrs. Morton ca