e Michaud cottage the creche was already well under way. In the
corner across from the fireplace the Pere had built up a mound, and this
Felix had covered with bits of rock and tufts of grass, and little green
boughs for trees, all to represent the rocky hillside of Judea; then,
half-way up, he began to place the tiny houses. These he had cut out of
wood and adorned with wonderful carving, in which, indeed, he was very
skilful. And then, such figures as he had made, such quaint little men and
women, such marvelous animals, camels and oxen and sheep and horses, were
never before seen in Sur Varne. But the figure on which he had lavished
his utmost skill was that of the little Christ Child, which was not to be
placed in the manger until Christmas night itself.

Felix kept this figure in his blouse pocket, carefully wrapped up in a bit
of wool, and he spent all his spare moments striving to give it some fresh
beauty; for I will tell you a secret: poor little Felix had a great
passion for carving, and the one thing for which he longed above all
others was to be allowed to apprentice himself in the workshop of Pere
Videau, who was the master carver of the village, and whose beautiful work
on the portals of the great church was the admiration of Felix's heart. He
longed, too, for better tools than the rude little knife he had, and for
days and years in which to learn to use them.

But the Pere Michaud had scant patience with these notions of the little
son's, and once, when Felix had ventured to speak to him about it, had
insisted rather sharply that he was to stick to his sheep-tending, so that
when the Pere himself grew old he could take charge of the flocks and keep
the family in bread; for the Pere had small faith in the art of the carver
as being able to supply the big brown loaves that the Mise baked every
week in the great stone oven. So Felix was obliged to go on minding the
flocks; but whenever he had a moment of his own, he employed it in carving
a bit of wood or chipping at a fragment of soft stone.

But while I have stopped to tell you all this he had almost finished the
creche; the little houses were all in place, and the animals grouped about
the holy stable, or else seeming to crop the tufts of moss on the mimic
rocky hillside.

"Well, well!" said the Pere Michaud, who had just entered the cottage, "'t
is a fine bit of work thou hast there, my son! Truly 't is a brave
creche!"

But here the Mise called them