ied without helping Kate upstairs
and to bed that night, and placing the cork leg in a prominent position
in the room, "so that you will be quite sure to see it, Kate, as soon
as you wake up on Christmas morning."

CHAPTER VI.

CHRISTMAS DAY.

"Why, my dear old Kate, you're only half awake yet, and the little ones
have been up for hours already, and Christmas Day has broken upon the
world once more. There; give me a kiss, and wish me a merry Christmas
in a proper manner."

"Another Christmas," said Kate, half dreamily, raising herself in bed.
"Frances, what are you doing?"

"Finishing a frock for poor Aunt's youngest; but oh, Kate, I have been
watching the dawn too, such a lovely dawn; I shall never forget it.
There, lean your head against me while I tell you about it. The light
came creeping, creeping up, so slowly, and so shyly. Then suddenly the
clouds parted, and a burst of glory came, making the dull snow, and
even the icicles look warm in the red light. And was it stupid, do you
think? I couldn't help thinking of you and the little children in
Westminster, and how you would watch the sunshine coming into so many
little desolate lives."

Frances stopped suddenly, and neither spoke for some moments. Her big
blue eyes were resting on the snow scene outside. A vision crossed
Kate's mind of two little girls watching that same scene many years
ago, in the cold moonlight with sorrowful hearts. She thought she knew
well what Frances meant about sunshine coming into a desolate life.

"Dear old Kate, how tired you will get sometimes with teaching those
poor little things, who are sure to be tiresome and naughty. But then,
you know, it will be all work for Him, and so of course you will be
quite glad to be tired. And then He will not let you bear one tired
feeling alone. It will be like those verses in your favourite poem:--

"But this it was that made me move,
As light as carrier-birds in air;
I loved the weight I had to bear,
Because it needed help of Love.

Nor could I weary, heart or limb,
When mighty Love would cleave in twain,
The lading of a single pain,
And part it, giving half to Him."

"O Kate, what a life! And then to think that all these little dawnings
we see in people's lives are only pictures of the great dawn coming,
when all things will be made new. Kate, doesn't it make you
unutterably glad?"

"Indeed, it does, Frances. And, please God, you and