The Christmas Angel | Page 6

it, anyway. Yes, I'll make an
experiment of her. I wonder what sort of trouble she will cause."
Not even Miss Terry could think of seeing old Miranda lying exposed
to the winter night. She found a piece of paper, rolled up the doll in a
neat package, and tied it with red string. It was, to look upon, entirely a
tempting package. Once more she stole down the steps and hesitated
where to leave Miranda: not on the sidewalk,--for some reason that
seemed impossible. But near the foot of the flight of steps leading to
the front door she deposited the doll. The white package shone out
plainly in the illuminated street. There was no doubt that it would be

readily seen.
With a quite unexplainable interest Miss Terry watched to see what
would happen to Miranda. She waited for some time. The street seemed
deserted. Miss Terry caught the faint sound of singing. The choristers
were passing through a neighboring street, and doubtless all wayfarers
within hearing of their voices were following in their wake.
She was thoroughly interested in her grim joke, but she was becoming
impatient. Were there to be no more passers? Must the doll stay there
unreclaimed until morning? Presently she became aware of a child's
figure drawing near. It was a little girl of about ten, very shabbily
dressed, with tangled yellow curls hanging over her shoulders. There
was something familiar about her appearance, Miss Terry could not say
what it was. She came hurrying along the sidewalk with a preoccupied
air, and seemed about to pass the steps without seeing the package
lying there. But just as she was opposite the window, her eye caught
the gleam of the white paper. She paused. She looked at it eagerly; it
was such a tempting package, both as to its size and shape! She went
closer and bent down to examine it. She took it into her bare little
hands and seemed to squeeze it gently. There is no mistaking the
contours of a doll, however well it may be enveloped in paper
wrappings. The child's eyes grew more and more eager. She glanced
behind her furtively; she looked up and down the street. Then with a
sudden intuition she looked straight ahead, up the flight of steps.
[Illustration: SHE LOOKED UP AND DOWN THE STREET]
Miss Terry read her mind accurately. She was thinking that probably
the doll belonged in that house; some one must have dropped the
package while going out or in. Would she ring the bell and return it?
Miss Terry had not thought of that possibility. But she shook her head
and her lip curled. "Return it? Of course not! Ragged children do not
usually return promising packages which they have found,--even on
Christmas Eve. Look now!"
Once more the child glanced stealthily behind her, up and down the
street. Once more she looked up at the dark house before her, the only

black spot in a wreath of brilliancy. She did not see the face peering at
her through the curtains, a face which scanned her own half wistfully.
What was to become of Miranda? The little girl thrust the package
under her ragged coat and ran away down the street as fast as her legs
could take her.
"A thief!" cried Miss Terry. "That is the climax. I have detected a child
taking what she knew did not belong to her, on Christmas Eve! Where
are all their Sunday School lessons and their social improvement
classes? I knew it! This Christmas spirit that one hears so much about
is nothing but an empty sham. I have proved it to my satisfaction
to-night. I will burn the rest of these toys, every one of them, and then
go to bed. It is too disgusting! She was a nice-looking child, too. Poor
old Miranda!"
With something like a sigh Miss Terry strode back to the fire, where
the play box stood gaping. She had made but a small inroad upon its
heaped-up treasures. She threw herself listlessly into the chair and
began to pull over the things. Broken games and animals, dolls' dresses
painfully tailored by unskilled fingers, disjointed members,--sorry
relics of past pleasures,--one by one Miss Terry seized them between
disdainful thumb and finger and tossed them into the fire. Her face
showed not a qualm at parting with these childhood treasures; only the
stern sense of a good housekeeper's duty fulfilled. With queer
contortions the bits writhed on the coals, and finally flared into
dissolution, vanishing up chimney in a shower of sparks to the heaven
of spent toys.
CHAPTER VI
THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL
Almost at the bottom of the box Miss Terry's fingers closed about a
small object. Once more she drew out the papier-mâché Angel which
had