rain. The little creature as quietly closed the door as he had opened
it, and smiling, walked up to the hearth, spreading out before it his
tiny, pink hands.

[Illustration: Scroll]




II.


As the little visitor stretched out his hands to warm them at the fire,
his shadow formed a flickering cross upon the floor. Crescimir noticed
this, and also wondering at the mysterious advent of the child, which
coming so closely upon his song, caused him almost to think that he must
be dreaming.

"Art thou the Christchild?" he said finally, to the little figure which
stood with its back toward him gazing up at the branch of hemlock above
the fireplace.

The child turned around and looking merrily at Crescimir, broke into a
fit of boisterous laughter, but did not answer.

"Thou art not a very polite little boy, to break into a house this way
and then not answer a simple question. Thou art no Austrian Christchild,
I am sure of that. No matter," he added, as he saw the little face
pucker up for a cry, "wait till we are better acquainted and then we can
talk it all over."