"Yes'm, some of them," answered the maid. "It is getting late, and a good
many have burned out. But some houses are still as bright as ever."

"Perhaps it is not too late, then," murmured Miss Terry, as if yielding a
disputed point. "Let us hurry, Norah."

She rose, and going to the mantel-shelf gently took up the figure of the
Angel, while Norah looked on in amazement.

"Norah," said Miss Terry, with an eagerness which made her voice tremble,
"I want you to hang the Christmas Angel in the window there. I too have a
fancy to burn a candle to-night. If it is not too late I'd like to have a
little share in the Christmas spirit."

Norah's eyes lighted. "Oh, yes'm," she said. "I'll hang it right away. And
I'll find an empty spool to hold the candle."

She bustled briskly about, and presently in the window appeared a little
device unlike any other in the block. Against the darkness within, the
figure of the Angel with arms outstretched towards the street shone in a
soft light from the flame of a single tiny candle such as blossom on
Christmas trees.

It caught the attention of many home-goers, who said, smiling, "How simple!
How pretty! How quaint! It is a type of the Christmas spirit which is
abroad to-night. You can feel it everywhere, blessing the city."

For some minutes before the candle was lighted, a man muffled in a heavy
overcoat had been standing in a doorway opposite Miss Terry's house. He was
tall and grizzled and his face was sad. He stared up at the gloomy windows,