hilst little Joan grasped her hand as if in terror.

"Let us sing 'Hark! the herald angels!'" whispered Rhoda.

Very softly, with a timid and tremulous voice, Rhoda began the hymn, and
little Joan took it up in an undertone. They sang the verses through,
gathering courage as they did so. Then with solemn steps they approached
the manger and raised the lantern to look into its cradle lined with
hay. It was empty.

"I suppose Mary is gone somewhere else," said little Joan, half grieved;
"it was n't in her way to come here, p'rhaps, or you and me we'd have
been so glad, Rhoda!"

"Perhaps she 'll come next Christmas," answered Rhoda. "We 'll come and
look every Christmas morning, and sing our hymn, and perhaps we shall
find them some time--Mary, and Joseph, and the babe, wrapped in
swaddling clothes and lying in the manger. Now we'll go back, and wake
up aunty, and tell her all about it."

Aunt Priscilla hardly knew what to think of it. Rhoda had always been
given to "making believe." She had often played at being David killing
Goliath with a smooth pebble from the brook, or Ruth gleaning in the
fields, or the Queen of Sheba, with a crown of cowslips, visiting King
Solomon. For the last few years these fancies had left her, but they
were all coming back again with little Joan. And going to look for the
child Jesus in the manger; was it right or wrong? She spoke privately to
Nathan, and the old man smiled, though he shook his white head.

"They 'll grow older and wiser in time," he said; "and sure the Lord 'ud
never be angered wi' two young creatures seeking after Him in any way!"

But when the next Christmas came all was changed at the farm-house on
the mountain. There had been no preparations made for keeping it as a
holiday, and no gathering of kinsfolk was invited by Priscilla Parry.
Nathan unbarred the kitchen-door, and lighted little Joan across the
fold; but she went into the stable alone, and stood on the threshold
singing the Christmas hymn with a sad, pale face that wore a lonely and
frightened expression. The manger was empty, as it had been the year
before; but the home seemed empty too.

All Joan knew of the beginning of this mournful change was, that she
awoke one pleasant sunny morning and found Rhoda gone.

That day Aunt Priscilla roamed about the farmstead and the scattered
fields her grandfather had enclosed upon the mountain, like one
distracted, calling everywhere for Rhoda. The farm-labourers lo