wazh there for, an' it ought to
have twinkled, 'cauzh twinkley star bobs open and shut that way 'cauzh
they're laughin' and can't keep still, an' I know I'd have laughed if
I'd been a star an' was goin' to make a lot of folks so awful happy.
G'won."

"Then," said Mrs. Burton, looking alternately and frequently at the two
accounts of the Advent, "they suddenly saw an angel, and the shepherds
were afraid."

"Should fink they _would_ be," said Toddie. "Everybody gets afraid when
they see good people around. I 'spec' they thought the angel would say
'don't!' in about a minute."

"But the angel told them not to be afraid," said Mrs. Burton, "for he
had come to bring good news. There was to be a dear little baby born at
Bethlehem, and He would make everybody happy."

"_Wouldn't_ it be nice if that angel would come an' do it all over
again?" said Budge. "Only he ought to pick out little boys instead of
sheep fellows. _I_ wouldn't be afraid of an angel."

"Neiver would I," said Toddie, "but I dzust go round behind him an' see
how his wings was fastened on."

"Then a great many other angels came," said Mrs. Burton, "and they all
sang and sang together. The poor shepherds didn't know what to make of
it, but after the singing was over, they all started for Bethlehem, to
see that wonderful baby."

"Just like the other day we went to see the sister-baby."

"Yes," said Mrs. Burton; but instead of finding Him in a pleasant home
and a nice room, with careful friends and nurses around Him, He was in a
manger out in a stable."

"That was 'cause he was so smart that He could do just what He wanted
to, an' be just where he liked," said Budge, "an' He was a little boy,
an' little boys always like stables better than houses--I wish _I_ could
live in a stable always an' for ever."

"So do I," said Toddie, "an' sleep in mangers, 'cauzh then the horses
would kick anybody that made me put on clean clothezh when I didn't want
to. They gaveded him presentsh, didn't they?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Burton; "gold, frankincense, and myrrh."

"Why didn't they give him rattles and squealey-balls, like folks did
budder Phillie when _he_ was a baby," asked Toddie.

"Because, Toddie," said Mrs. Burton, glad of an opportunity to get the
sentiment of the story into her own hands, from which it had departed
very early in the course of the lesson--"because He was no common baby,
like other children. He was the Lord."

"What! The Lord once a dear lit