the brown cushion just in front of the mirror.

When Elsie had finished her work she went to her room, pinned her
child's stocking to the foot of the bed and slyly tucked in the new suit
she had made. Her own stockings lay flat upon the floor. Her breath
caught a little bit as she noticed them. "But it doesn't matter," she
said, "parents never care for themselves if they can give their children
pleasure."

She crept into bed and took her child on her arm. The night was very
cold. The frost made mysterious noises on the roof in the nail-holes and
on the glass. She went to bed early because the kitchen was so cold. She
thought "we can talk in bed." The lock of her door was broken, and she
could not shut it tight. Through this the air came chilly.

* * * * * * *

Miss Amanda put on her flannel wrapper and her bed-slippers and sat down
before the open fire in her sleeping-room. Some way she couldn't keep
her thoughts from that little back attic room. She went into the hall,
silently up the stairs, and stood outside the door. Elsie was talking
softly, but Miss Amanda could hear every word, thanks to the broken
lock.

"I have much to tell you to-night, dear child," she heard the waif say,
"the whole story of the Christmas Child. It was years ago. His mother
was very young, I guess about twice as old as I am. They hadn't any
house; they were in a barn. I think there were no houses to rent in that
town. But she fixed a little cradle for Him in the feed-box, and wrapped
Him in long clothes, as I do you, my darling. The angels sang a new song