“The Lord’s birthday, too!” said Grandmother Bettine.  “The dear little Child has a cold way to come.  Even He might become confused and be driven to wander by such a whirl of snow.  I am glad that we set the tapers there, Josef, even though we be so far from the village street down which they say He passes.  How pleasant to think that one might give light to His blessed feet if they were wandering from the way,—­the dear little Child’s feet, so rosy and soft and tender!” And good Grandmother Viaud dropped a tear upon her knitting; for she remembered many such little feet that had once pattered about the cottage floor.  Prince lifted his head and seemed to listen, then whined as he had done before.

“You are lonely, old fellow, are you not?” quavered old Josef.  “You are waiting for the children to come back and make it merry, as it used to be in the old days when you were a pup.  Heigho!  Those were pleasant days, but they will never come again, Prince.  We are all growing old, we three together.”

“Ah, peace, Josef, peace!” cried old Bettine, wiping her eyes again.  “It is lonely enough and sad enough, God knows, without speaking of it.  What use to sigh for that which cannot be?  If the good Lord wished us to have a comforter in our old age, doubtless He would send us one.  He knows how we have longed and prayed that a child’s feet might echo through our house once more:  how we have hoped from year to year that one of the grandchildren might return to bless us with his little presence.”  At this moment Prince jumped to his 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.”