Stealing had been the cause of his downfall--first the forbidden fruit and then the hyena's coat. If he had been less enterprising and more obedient, he would still have been the friend of God. After a wakeful night he crept to the entrance to discover that the worst thing of all had happened. "A worse thing!" you exclaim. "I thought you were going to tell us a cheerful Christmas story." And so I am: but all the unfortunate part comes first--that's the way the robins tell it. If you'll be patient and read on, you'll find this is the very cheerfullest story that was ever told in earth or heaven. You may not have noticed that we've not yet come to the first laugh. The Woman has smiled and the hyena has scoffed; but no one has laughed. It's when we come to the first laugh that the happiness commences. V The worst thing of all that the Man discovered when he crept to the cave-entrance after a wakeful night, was this: with a terrible stealthy silence snow was drifting down so that even the distant shining of the gates of Eden was blotted out. It was frightening; snow had never fallen in the world before. If it had, the Man had not seen it. Within the walls of the garden summer had been perpetual. He stood there staring out forlornly at the misty sea of shifting whiteness. It chilled him to the bone. It seemed to him that the pillars of the sky had collapsed and the dust of the moon and stars was falling. Soon everything would be buried and the world itself would be no more. He looked at the calendar which he had scratched upon the wall. It was the twenty-fourth day of December. He wondered whether God knew what was happening and whether He had planned it. Then he gave up wondering, for behind him, from the blackness of the cave, the Woman called. "Oh, Man," she cried, "I cannot bear this any longer!" He groped his way to her and raised her in his arms so that her head lay on his breast. Even in the darkness he could see the glow of her hair, like the shadow of flame growing fainter and fainter. "My Woman," he whispered, "what can I do for you?" And again he whispered, "What can I do for you?" She pressed her face close to his before she answered, petting him the way she had been used to do in Eden. "Do for me? Nothing. You've tried with your remedies--you've tried so hard. Poor you! If we could only find God----" "If we could," the Man said, "but----" And then they both grew silent, for how could they find God when He had climbed back to Heaven, destroying the sky-blue stairs behind Him? "Perhaps, He still walks in Eden." It was the Woman who had spoken. "If you were to go and watch through the bars of Eden till He comes and were to call to Him--if you were to tell Him that I cannot bear it any longer and that we're sorry, so sorry--that we did it in our ignorance----" Without ending what she was saying, she fell to sobbing.