The Christmas Angel | Page 5

Terry had her own positive theories.
Taking the bellows in hand she blew furiously, and was presently
rewarded with a brisk blaze. She smiled with satisfaction, and trotted
upstairs to find her red knit shawl. With this about her shoulders she
was prepared to brave the December frost. Down the steps she went,
and deposited the ark discreetly at their foot; then returned to take up
her position behind the curtains.
There were a good many people passing, but they seemed too
preoccupied to glance down at the sidewalk. They were nearly all
hurrying in one direction. Some were running in the middle of the
street.
"They are in a great hurry," sniffed Miss Terry disdainfully. "One
would think they had something really important on hand. I suppose
they are going to hear the singing. Fiddlestick!"
A man hastened by under the window; a woman; two children, a boy
and a girl, running and gesticulating eagerly. None of them noticed the
Noah's ark lying at the foot of the steps.
Miss Terry began to grow impatient. "Are they all blind?" she fretted.
"What is the matter with them? I wish somebody would find the thing. I

am tired of seeing it lying there."
She tapped the floor impatiently with her slipper. Just then a woman
approached. She was dressed in the most uncompromising of mourning,
and she walked slowly, with bent head, never glancing at the lighted
windows on either side.
"She will see it," commented Miss Terry. And sure enough, she did.
She stopped at the doorstep, drew her skirts aside, and bent over to look
at the strange-shaped box at her feet. Finally she lifted it But
immediately she shivered and acted so strangely that Miss Terry
thought she was about to break the toy in pieces on the steps or throw it
into the street. Evidently she detested the sight of it.
Just then up came a second woman with two small boys hanging at her
skirts. They were ragged and sick-looking. There was something about
the expression of even the tiny knot of hair at the back of the woman's
head which told of anxious poverty. With envious curiosity she hurried
up to see what a luckier mortal had found, crowding to look over her
shoulder. The woman in black drew haughtily away and clutched the
Noah's ark with a gesture of proprietorship.
"Go away! This is my affair." Miss Terry read her expression and
sniffed. "There is the Christmas spirit coming out again," she said to
herself. "Look at her face!"
The black-gowned woman prepared to move on with the toy under her
arm. But the second woman caught hold of her skirt and began to speak
earnestly. She pointed to the Noah's ark, then to her two children. Her
eyes were beseeching. The little boys crowded forward eagerly. But
some wicked spirit seemed to have seized the finder of the ark. Angrily
she shook off the hand of the other woman, and clutching the box yet
more firmly under her arm, she hurried away. Once, twice, she turned
and shook her head at the ragged woman who followed her. Then, with
a savage gesture at the two children, she disappeared beyond Miss
Terry's straining eyes. The poor woman and her boys followed
forlornly at a distance.

"They really wanted it, that old Noah's ark!" exclaimed Miss Terry in
amazement. "I can scarcely believe it. But why did that other creature
keep the thing? I see! Only because she found they cared for it. Well,
that is a happy spirit for Christmas time, I should say! Humph! I did not
expect to find anything quite so mean as _that!_"
CHAPTER V
MIRANDA
Miss Terry returned to the fireside, fumbled in the box, and drew out a
doll. She was an ugly, old-fashioned doll, with bruised waxen face of
no particular color. Her mop of flaxen hair was straggling and uneven,
much the worse for the attention of generations of moths. She wore a
faded green silk dress in the style of Lincoln's day, and a primitive
bonnet, evidently made by childish hands. She was a strange,
dead-looking figure, with pale eyelids closed, as Miss Terry dragged
her from the box. But when she was set upright the lids snapped open
and a pair of bright blue eyes looked straight into those of Miss Terry.
It was so sudden that the lady nearly gasped.
"Miranda!" she exclaimed. "It is old Miranda! I have not thought of her
for years." She held the doll at arm's length, gazing fixedly at her for
some minutes.
"I cannot burn her," she muttered at last. "It would seem almost like
murder. I don't like to throw her away, but I have vowed to get rid of
these things to-night. And I'll do