He pulled grass and leaves for the wild hares. He
had once lifted Mother Fox from her trap and sent her back to her
babies. He brought spring water from the rocks for the flowers, and
never frightened the owls or caught the butterflies.
But the Goeinge Forest was cold and asleep now, for it was Christmas
time.
Christopher knew that it was now Christmas Eve for he had been to the
village and looked in the doors. Lighted candles were being set in the
windows. Great pieces of bread and meat were being placed on the
tables, and bunches of grain thick with seeds were hung in the gardens
to be a Christmas feast for the birds.
But when the villagers saw Christopher from the cave in the Forest
looking in their doors, they slammed them shut, for they knew him only
as the child of Beggar Mother. They had no room for him on Christmas
Eve.
So Christopher walked alone and he came, through the snow, to the
little church on the edge of the Goeinge Forest. Brother Anselmo tended
the church. He had arranged the little _creche_, which was like the
stable where the Holy Child lay on the first Christmas Eve. There was
the manger, the gilt star suspended over it, and the toy cattle that
Brother Anselmo had carved from wood with his own hands. He had
trimmed the church with greens.
Pages:
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181