tmas eve, and were I to refuse a
shelter to this helpless baby I would feel like one of those who had no
room within their inns for the Holy Child. Dear wife, will you not
receive him for love of me and of God, and let him share with little
Kala in your care?"

Lisbeth's only reply was one characteristic of the woman. She was moved
by her husband's appeal, against what she considered her better
judgment; and without a single word she picked up the boy from the floor
and laid him in the cradle by the side of her own little daughter. Then,
with a smile--and her smiles came but rarely--she proceeded to carry off
Peter's wet cloak and to bring in his supper. So with this mute assent
the matter was settled, and the deformed child was received into the
stone-mason's family.

And in a different way he became the source of much gratification to
both husband and wife. The first regarded him with real kindness and an
almost fatherly affection, for the boy soon began to manifest a quick
intelligence and a winning gentleness that might readily have found
their way into a harder heart. Lisbeth, too, had her reward; for it was
sweet to her soul to hear her neighbors say, as they stopped to watch
the two children playing in the doorway: "Ah! Lisbeth, it is not many a
woman who would take the care you do of a wretched little humpback like
that;" or, "It was a lucky chance for the poor child that threw him
into such hands as yours, Mistress Burkgmaeier;" or, "Did ever little
Kala look so fair and straight as when she had that crooked boy by her
side?"

And did not the good pastor from the Frauenkirche say to her, with tears
starting in his gentle eyes: "God will surely reward you for your
kindness to this helpless little one?" Nay, better yet, did not the
Stadtholder's lady lean out from her beautiful carriage, and say before
three of the neighbors, who were standing by and heard every word: "You
are a good woman, Mistress Burkgmaeier, to take the same care of this
miserable child as of your own pretty little daughter"?--which was
something to be really proud of; for, whereas it was the obvious duty of
a priest to admire a virtuous act, it was not often that a noble lady
deigned thus to express her approbation.

Yes, Lisbeth felt, as she listened serenely to all this praise--surely
so well merited--that there was some compensation in the world for such
charitable deeds as hers, even when they involved a fair amount of
sacrifice. An