A little head, bright with tumbled curls, was thrust in, and a pair of round eyes stared round the chall, then back to me, and rested on my face. "Merry Christmas, little mistress." "Dick--if you tell, I'll never speak to you again. I only wanted to see if 'twas true." She stepped inside the chall, shutting the door behind her. Under one arm she hugged a big boy-doll, dressed like a sailor--from the Christmas-tree, I guessed--and a bright tinsel star was pinned on the shoulder of her bodice. She had come across the cold town-place in her muslin frock, with no covering for her shoulders; and the manner in which that frock was hitched upon her made me stare. "I got out of bed again and dressed myself," she explained. "Nurse is in the kitchen, dancing with the young man from Penare, who can't afford to marry her for _ever_ so long, father says. I saw them twirling, as I slipped out--" "You have done a wrong thing," said I: "you might catch your death." Her lip fell:--she was but five. "Dick, I only wanted to see if 'twas true." "What?" I asked, covering her shoulders with the empty sack that had been my pillow. "Why, that the cows pray on Christmas-eve. Nurse says that at twelve o'clock to-night all the cows in their stalls will be on their knees, if only somebody is there to see. So, as it's near twelve by the tall clock indoors, I've come to see," she wound up. "It's quig-nogs, I expect. I never heard of it." "Nurse says they kneel and make a cruel moan, like any Christian folk. It's because Christ was born in a stable, and so the cows know all about it. Listen to Dinah! Dick, she's going to begin!" But Dinah, having heaved her moan, merely shuddered and was still again. "Just fancy, Dick," the little one went on, "it happened in a chall like ours!" She was quiet for a moment, her eyes fixed on the glossy rumps of the cows. Then, turning quickly--"I know about it, and I'll show you. Dick, you must be Saint Joseph, and I'll be the Virgin Mary. Wait a bit--" Her quick fingers began to undress the sailor-doll and fold his clothes carefully. "I _meant_ to christen him Robinson Crusoe," she explained, as she laid the small garments, one by one, on the straw; "but he can't be Robinson Crusoe till I've dressed him up again." The doll was stark naked now, with waxen face and shoulders, and bulging bags of sawdust for body and legs. "Dick," she said, folding the doll in her arms and kissing it-- "St. Joseph, I mean--the first thing we've got to do is to let people know he's born. Sing that carol I heard you trying over last week-- the one that says 'Far and far I carry it.'" So I sang, while she rocked the babe:-- 'Naked boy, brown boy, In the snow deep, Piping, carolling Folks out of sleep; Little shoes, thin shoes, Shoes so wet and worn'-- 'But I bring the merry news --Christ is born!