No Christmas-tree went by leaving a whiff of piny
sweetness behind, that she did not wish it all success, and picture
to herself the merry little people dancing in its light. And
whenever she saw a ragged child eying a window full of goodies,
smiling even, while it shivered, she could not resist playing Santa
Claus till her purse was empty, sending the poor little souls
enraptured home with oranges and apples in either hand, and splendid
sweeties in their pockets, for the babies.
No envy mingled with the melancholy that would not be dispelled even
by these gentle acts, for her heart was very tender that night, and
if any one had asked what gifts she desired most, she would have
answered with a look more pathetic than any shivering child had
given her:
"I want the sound of a loving voice; the touch of a friendly hand."
Going home, at last, to the lonely little room where no Christmas
fire burned, no tree shone, no household group awaited her, she
climbed the long, dark stairs, with drops on her cheeks, warmer than
any melted snow-flake could have left, and opening her door paused
on the threshold, smiling with wonder and delight, for in her
absence some gentle spirit had remembered her.
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