The deformed little body was
quite alive with Christmas now, and brought its glow with her, in
her weak way. Different from the others, he saw with a curious
interest. The day was more real to her than to them. Not
because, only, the care she had of everybody, and everybody had
of her seemed to reach its culmination of kindly thought for the
Christmas time; not because, as she sat talking slowly, stopping
for breath, her great fear seemed to be that she would not have
gifts enough to go round; but deeper than that,--the day was real
to her. As if it were actually true that the Master in whom she
believed was freshly born into the world once a year, to waken
all that was genial and noble and pure in the turbid, worn-out
hearts; as if new honour and pride and love did flash into the
realms below heaven with the breaking of Christmas morn. It was
a beautiful faith; he almost wished it were his. A beautiful
faith! it gave a meaning to the old custom of gifts and kind
words. LOVE coming into the world!--the idea pleased his
artistic taste, being simple and sublime. Lois used to tell him,
while she feebly tried to set his room in order, of all her
plans,-- of how Sam Polston was to be married on New-Year's,--but
most of all of the Christmas coming out at the old
school-master's: how the old house had been scrubbed from top to
bottom, was fairly glowing with shining paint and hot fires,--how
Margret and her mother worked, in terror lest the old man should
find out how poor and bare it was,--how he and Joel had some
secret enterprise on foot at the far end of the plantation out in
the swamp, and were gone nearly all day.
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