homely gear!"

Then the nearsighted father put out his hand toward Peter's little
sister. She jumped--she could not help it, and the holy father jumped
too; the Christmas wreath actually tumbled off his head.

"It is a miracle!" exclaimed he when he could speak: "the little girl
is alive! _parra puella viva est._ I will pick her and take her to the
brethren, and we will pay her the honors she is entitled to."

Then the good father put on his Christmas wreath, for he dared not
venture before his abbot without it, picked up Peter's little sister,
who was trembling in all her little bones, and carried her into the
chapel, where the Monks were just assembling to sing another carol.
He went right up to the Christmas abbot, who was seated in a splendid
chair, and looked like a king.

"Most holy abbot," said the nearsighted father, holding out Peter's
little sister, "behold a miracle, _vide miraculum_! Thou wilt remember
that there was one wax doll planted which did not come up. Behold, in
her place I have found this doll on crutches, which is--alive!"

"Let me see her!" said the abbot; and all the other Monks crowded
around, opening their mouths just like the little boys around the
notice, in order to see better.

"_Verum est_," said the abbot. "It is verily a miracle."

"Rather a lame miracle," said the brother who had charge of the funny
picture-books and the toy monkeys; they rather threw his mind off