The Birds Christmas Carol | Page 4

her side and the heaven of motherhood
opening before her. Nurse was making gruel in the kitchen, and the
room was dim and quiet. There was a cheerful open fire in the grate,
but though the shutters were closed, the side windows that looked out
on the Church of our Saviour, next door, were wide open. Suddenly a
sound of music poured out into the bright air and drifted into the
chamber. It was the boy-choir singing Christmas anthems. Higher and
higher rose the clear, fresh voices, full of hope and cheer, as children's
voices always are. Fuller and fuller grew the burst of melody as one
glad strain fell upon another in joyful harmony:
"Carol, brothers, carol, Carol joyfully, Carol the good tidings, Carol
merrily! And pray a gladsome Christmas For all your fellow-men;
Carol, brothers, carol, Christmas Day again."
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. You are a
little Christmas child, and we will name you 'Carol'--mother's little
Christmas Carol!"
"What!" said Mr. Bird, coming in softly and closing the door behind
him. "Why, Donald, don't you think 'Carol' is a sweet name for a
Christmas baby? It came to me just a moment ago in the singing as I
was lying here half asleep and half awake." "I think it is a charming
name, dear heart, and that it sounds just like you, and I hope that, being
a girl, this baby has some chance of being as lovely as her mother," at
which speech from the baby's papa, Mrs. Bird, though she was as weak
and tired as she could be, blushed with happiness. And so Carol came
by her name. Of course, it was thought foolish by many people, though
Uncle Jack declared laughingly that it was very strange if a whole
family of Birds could not be indulged in a single Carol; and Grandma,
who adored the child, thought the name much more appropriate than
Lucy, but was glad that people would probably think it short for
Caroline. Perhaps because she was born in holiday time, Carol was a
very happy baby. Of course, she was too tiny to understand the joy of
Christmas-tide, but people say there is everything in a good beginning,
and she may have breathed-in unconsciously the fragrance of
evergreens and holiday dinners; while the peals of sleigh-bells and the
laughter of happy children may have fallen upon her baby ears and
wakened in them a glad surprise at the merry world she had come to
live in. Her cheeks and lips were as red as holly berries; her hair was

for all the world the color of a Christmas candle-flame; her eyes were
bright as stars; her laugh like a chime of Christmas bells, and her tiny
hands forever outstretched in giving. Such a generous little creature you
never saw! A spoonful of bread and milk had always to be taken by
Mama or nurse before Carol could enjoy her supper; and whatever bit
of cake or sweetmeat found its way into her pretty fingers, it was
straightway broken in half and shared with Donald, Paul or Hugh; and,
when they made believe nibble the morsel with affected enjoyment, she
would clap her hands and crow with delight. "Why does she do it?"
asked Donald, thoughtfully; "None of us boys ever did." "I hardly
know," said Mama, catching her darling to her heart, "except that she is
a little Christmas child, and so she has a tiny share of the blessedest
birthday the world ever saw!"
II. DROOPING WINGS.
It was December, ten years later. Carol had seen nine Christmas trees
lighted on her birthdays, one after another; nine times she had assisted
in the holiday festivities of the household, though in her babyhood her
share of the gayeties was somewhat limited. For