But the numb little figure in the milliner's shop had not forgotten; at noon she was still sitting limply in her chair, gazing out at nothing with burning, brilliant eyes, that now had knowledge in their depths where before there had been only wonder. Her mouth quivered pitifully, though she tried bravely to make it firm and resolute. She had had a glimpse into the Present, harsh and unsympathetic, and she shrank back again into the Past, where she had been much more happy and contented. The To-days were not for her; from henceforth, she knew, all her solace and companionship, all her brief happiness and pleasures, all her longings and desires--the rest of her life, in short--must be lived in the quiet, peace-bringing Yesterdays. --Katherine Kurz. =A Christmas Legend= There was great commotion in the forest, for the south wind, heavy with cloying fragrance of the jasmine, had been the bearer of wondrous tidings. The forest sang with joy, for, after these many years, it was to have a share in the great festival of the Master's birthday. This, was the news that the south wind had brought, and he had told, too, how an angel would come to choose the tree whom the Master had most loved. "It is I whom the Master loves," spoke the oak, rearing his great head in the still air. "I heard the angels sing at his birth; and often has he rested in the shade at my feet. It is fitting that I be chosen." "Nay, old oak," cried the palm, shaking her plumes in eager denial. "Whose branches did the multitude wave at the Master's entry into Jerusalem? I have been already chosen!" There were many in the forest who nodded their approval to this speech of the palm's, but the olive sighed, and whispered: "I have watched with him in Gethsemane, and he has wet my feet with his tears." "But I," cried the cedar, stretching his tense arms to the listening stars, "I heard his dying groans, and my heart is stained with his blood; it was upon me that his body was nailed--me, who watched over his boyhood on the plains of Nazareth!" The forest was very still as the cedar finished, and only the chestnut ventured to speak--shaking out her broad leaves, and distilling everywhere the heavy fragrance of her blossoms. "I am ready for the feast," she said complacently. "Last night, while all of you were sleeping, an angel came, and lit these candles of mine." Thus spoke among themselves the rulers of the forest, while the south wind played among their branches; nor did they notice the tiny tree that listened at their feet, and crooned lullabies to the drowsy birds. The winged months flew by. In the forest, the days passed as before; and, after the south wind had sung its farewell to the tree-tops, the forest forgot the tidings which the breeze had brought. Only one tree remembered; the lullaby which it sang to the birds nestled in its arms was of the wonderful birthday festival of the Master.