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 both to the midday meal, which she had spread smoking hot on the shining deal table.

When this was finished Felix arose, and, as the Pere wished, once more went out to the fold to see how the sheep, and especially his little Beppo, were faring.

As he pushed open the swinging door, Ninette, who was lazily dozing with her toes doubled up under her fleece, blinked her eyes and looked sleepily around; but Beppo was nowhere to be seen.

“Ninette!” demanded Felix fiercely, “what hast thou done with my Beppo?”

At this Ninette peered about in a dazed sort of way, and gave an alarmed little “Baa!” for she had not before missed Beppo, who, while she was asleep, had managed to push open the door of the fold and scamper off, no one knew just where.

Felix gazed around in dismay when he realized that his lamb, the chosen one, who had brought such pride and honor to him—­that this was gone!

“Beppo!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, “Beppo!  Beppo-o!”

But no trace could he see of the little bundle of fleece he had scrubbed and combed so carefully that morning.