t even as she spoke the dove
fluttered in her fingers, then, with a gentle "Coo-roo!" whirled once
about the little chamber and darted out at the door, which they had
forgotten quite to close. With that the child opened his eyes.

"The dove is gone!" he cried. "Yet I am warm. Why--has the little
Stranger come once more?" Then he saw the kind old faces bent over him,
and felt Prince's warm kisses on his hands and cheeks, with the fire
flickering pleasantly beyond.

"It is like coming home again!" he murmured, and with his head on
Bettine's shoulder dropped comfortably to sleep.

* * * * *

On the morrow all the village went to see the image of the Christ Child
lying in a manger near the high altar of the church. It was a sweet
little Child in a white shirt, clasping in his hands a dove. They
believed him to have come in the stormy night down the village street.
And they were glad that their pious candles in the windows had guided
Him safely on the road. But little Pierre, while he sang in the choir,
and his adopted parents, the Viauds, kneeling happily below, had sweet
thoughts of a dream which had brought them all together.

Who knows but that Prince at home happily guarding Pierre's snow-wet old
shoes--who knows but that Prince was dreaming the happiest dream of all?
For only Prince knew how and where and under what guidance he had found
the little friend of the Lord's friends sleeping in the snow, with but a
white dove in his bosom to keep him from becoming a boy of ice.

THE MERMAID'S CHILD

IN the rocks on the seashore, left bare by the tide, one often finds
tiny pools of water fringed with seaweed and padded with curious moss.
These are the cradles which the Mermaids have trimmed prettily for the
sea-babies, and where they leave the little ones when they have to go
away on other business, as Mermaids do. But one never spies the
sea-children in their cradles, for they are taught to tumble out and
slip away into the sea if a human step should approach. You see, the
fishes have told the Mer-folk cruel tales of the Land-people with their
nets and hooks and lines.

In the softest, prettiest little cradle of all a Sea-child lay one
afternoon crying to himself. He cried because he was lonesome. His
mother did not love him as a baby's mother should; for she was the
silliest and the vainest of all the Mermaids. Her best friend was her
looking-glass of polished pearl, and her o