he Jewish
shepherds, guarding their flocks by night, read in their shining depths
that in Bethlehem of Judea the Christ-Child was born.

The rising sun was touching the higher hilltops with a faint rush of
crimson the next morning when the back door of the Roney house opened
with a creak, and Mr. Roney, still heavy-eyed with sleep, stumbled out
upon the porch, stretched his arms above his head, yawned, blinked
at the dazzling snow, and then shambled off toward the barn. As he
approached, the dog ran eagerly out, gambolled meekly around his feet
and caressed his boots. The man patted him kindly.

"Hello, old boy! What were you yappin' around so for last night, huh?
Grain-thieves? You needn't worry about them. There ain't nothin' left
for them to steal. No, sir! If they got into that granary they'd have
to take a lantern along to find a pint of wheat. I don't suppose," he
added, reflectively, "that I could scrape up enough to feed the chickens
this mornin', but I guess I might's well see."

He passed over to the little building. What he saw when he looked within
seemed for a moment to produce no impression upon him whatever. He
stared at the hillock of grain in motionless silence. Finally Mr. Roney
gave utterance to a single word, "Geewhilikins!" and started for the
house on a run. Into the kitchen, where his wife was just starting the
fire, the excited man burst like a whirlwind.

"Come out here, Mary!" he cried. "Come out here, quick!"

The worthy woman, unaccustomed to such demonstrations, looked at him in
amazement.

"For goodness sake, what's come over you, Peter Roney?" she exclaimed.
"Are you daft? Don't make such a noise! You'll wake the young ones, and
I don't want them waked till need be, with no Christmas for 'em, poor
little things!"

"Never mind the young 'uns," he replied. "Come on!"

As they passed out he noticed the slip of paper under the door and
picked it up, but without comment.

He charged down upon the granary, his wife, with a shawl over her head,
close behind.

She peered in, apprehensively at first, then with eyes of widening
wonder.

"Why, Peter!" she said, turning to him. "Why, Peter! What does--I
thought--"

"You thought!" he broke in. "Me, too. But it ain't so. It means that
we've got some of the best neighbours that ever was, a thinkin' of our
young 'uns this way! Read that!" and he thrust the paper into her hand.

"Why, Peter!" she ejaculated again, weakly. Then suddenly she