Apples, Ripe and Rosy, Sir by Mary Catherine Crowley
page 36 of 203 (17%)
page 36 of 203 (17%)
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thoroughfares; but the side streets were deserted, except when, now and
again, overtaxed workers like herself were to be met making their way home. The lamps burned dim, save where, occasionally, an electric light flared up with a spectral glare. The glitter of the world had departed. It was past midnight; in the deep blue of the winter's sky the stars glowed with a peaceful radiance. Looking up at them, Katy began to think, in her own simple fashion, of the meaning of Christmas and of Christmas gifts; of Bethlehem, the Virgin Mother, and the Divine Child; of the Love that came into the world on that holy night of long ago, to kindle in all hearts a spirit of kindliness and helpfulness toward one another, making it more blessed to give than to receive. The little girl realized the happiness of making others happy, when she handed to Ellie the bulky package over which she had kept watch all the way to the house. The usually pale face of the young invalid flushed with excitement, while, with trembling fingers, she unfastened the wrappings and opened the box. "O Katy!" she exclaimed, as she beheld the hard-won present,--"O Katy!" It was all she could say, but the tone and the look which accompanied it were quite enough. At first neither of the children could think of anything besides the doll; but after a while Ellie made another discovery. As she trifled with the box, she cried: "Why, there's something else here!" The next moment she drew out a doll precisely like the first, except |
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