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Apples, Ripe and Rosy, Sir by Mary Catherine Crowley
page 36 of 203 (17%)
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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