days of
the wheat-sheaf and the full pan of milk and the bright warm fire!"
Pierre's eyes filled with tears.

"What! Did you set a sheaf of wheat for the birds on Christmas Eve?" asked
the Child, drawing closer and bending kindly eyes upon Pierre.

Now the boy saw that where the Stranger stood the snow had melted all
away, so that they were inclosed in a little space like a downy nest,
which seemed almost warm to his limbs.

"Yes, I set out a wheat-sheaf," said Pierre simply. "Why not? I love all
the little creatures whom our Lord Himself so dearly loved, and to whom He
bade us be kind. On Christmas Eve especially I always tried to make happy
those which He sent in my way,--poor little wanderers as well as our own
friends at home."

The Child drew yet closer and sat down in the snow beside Pierre. His
beautiful eyes shone like stars, and his voice was like sweet music.
"What," he said, "you are the boy who stood in the doorway with a pan of
bread and milk,--part of your own supper,--and called the hungry kitten to
feast? You are the same who tossed a bone to the limping dog and made him
a bed in the stable? You stroked the noses of the ox and the ass and said
gentle things to them, because they were the first friends of the little
Jesus? You set the sheaf of wheat for the snow-birds, and they lighted upon
your hands and shoulders and kissed your lips in gratitude? You are that
boy, friend of God's friends. No wonder that my white dove flew to you out
of the storm. She knew, she knew!"

The Child bent near and kissed Pierre on the cheeks, so that they grew
rosy, and the warm blood went tingling through his little cold limbs.
Sitting up, he said: "Yes, I am that boy who last year was so happy
because he could do these pleasant things. But how do you know, little
Stranger? How did you see?"

"Oh, I know, I saw!" cried the Child, gleefully clapping his hands as a
child will. "I was there. I passed through the village last Christmas Eve,
and I saw it all. But tell me now, how do you come here, dear boy? Why are
you not in that happy home this stormy night, once more making the Lord's
creatures happy?"

Pierre told all to the Child: how his dear father and mother had died and
left him alone in the world; how the home had been sold, and now he lived
in the charity school kept by the good Abbe; how he had learned of the
chance to earn a few pennies by singing on Christmas Day in the
neighboring village church, which la