"
One verse followed another always with the same
glad refrain:
"And pray a gladsome Christmas
For all your fellow-men:
Carol, brothers, carol,
Christmas Day again."
Mrs. Bird thought, as the music floated in upon her gentle sleep,
that she had slipped into heaven with her new baby, and that the
angels were bidding them welcome. But the tiny bundle by her
side stirred a little, and though it was scarcely more than the
ruffling of a feather, she awoke; for the mother-ear is so close
to the heart that it can hear the faintest whisper of a child.
She opened her eyes and drew the baby closer. It looked like a
rose dipped in milk, she thought, this pink and white blossom of
girlhood, or like a pink cherub, with its halo of pale yellow
hair, finer than floss silk.
"Carol, brothers, carol,
Carol joyfully,
Carol the good tidings,
Carol merrily!"
The voices were brimming over with joy.
"Why, my baby," whispered Mrs. Bird in soft surprise, "I had
forgotten what day it was.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25