feet with a low bark, and stood trembling,
with pointed ears.

"What dost thou hear, old dog?" asked the Grandfather carelessly. "There
is naught human abroad this night, I warrant you. All wise folk are
hugging the fire like us. Only those bad spirits of Christmas Eve are
howling about for mischief, they say. Best keep away from the door, old
Prince, lest they nip your toes or bite your nose for spite."

"Hush!" cried the Grandmother, laying her hand upon his arm. "You forget:
there is the Other One abroad. It may be that He--"

She was interrupted by Prince, who ran eagerly to the door and began
sniffing at the latch in great excitement. Then he gave a long, low howl.
At the same moment the latch rattled, and the Viauds distinctly heard a
little voice cry, "Open, open, good people!"

The old couple looked at each other; the cheeks of one flushed, and the
other's paled. At the same moment they rose stiffly from their chairs by
the fire. But Grandmother Bettine was first at the door. She lifted the
latch, the door blew open violently, and with a loud bark Prince dashed
out into the storm.

"What is it? Who is there?" cried Josef Viaud, peering over his wife's
shoulder. But no one answered save the rough storm, which fiercely blew
into the faces of the old couple, whirling and screaming about their
heads. "H'm! It was only a fancy," muttered the old man. "Come in, Mother.
Come, Prince!" and he whistled out into the storm. But the wind whistled
too, drowning his voice, and Prince did not return. "He is gone!" cried
Josef impatiently. "It is some evil spirit's work."

"Nay, Father!" and, as she spoke, the door banged violently in Josef's
face, as if to emphasize the good wife's rebuke. "It was a little child; I
heard it," insisted Bettine, as they staggered back to the fire and sank
weakly into their chairs. "Perhaps it was the Holy Child Himself, who
knows? But why would He not enter? Why, Josef! Oh, I fear we were not good
enough!"

"I only know that we have perhaps lost our good dog. Why did you open the
door, Bettine?" grumbled Josef sleepily.

"Prince is not lost. For what was he bred a snow-dog upon the mountains if
a storm like this be danger to him? He is of the race that rescues, that
finds and is never lost. Mayhap the Holy Child had work for him this
night. Ah, the Little One! If I could but have seen Him for one moment!"
And good Bettine's head nodded drowsily on her chair-back. Presently the
old coupl