"My darlings!" the mother cried. "Oh, God spare me to you and
provide some way for us! Your love should make me rich though I
lack all else. There, I won't cry any more, and you shall have as
happy a Christmas as I can give you. Perhaps He who knew what it
was to be homeless and shelterless will provide for our need; so
we'll try to trust Him and keep His birthday. And now, Jamie, go
and bring the rest of the coal, and then we will make the dear
home that papa gave us cheery and warm once more. If he were only
with us we wouldn't mind hunger or cold, would we? Oh, my
husband!" she broke out afresh, "if you could only come back, even
though crippled and helpless, I feel that I could live and grow
strong from simple gladness."
"Don't you think, mamma," Jamie asked, "that God will let papa
come down from heaven and spend Christmas with us? He might be
here like the angels, and we not see him."
"I'm afraid not," the sad woman replied, shaking her head and
speaking more to herself than to the child. "I don't see how he
could go back to heaven and be happy if he knew all.
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