Then arose the sound of singing outside the house.  The passing choristers had spied the quaint window, now the only one in the street which remained lighted:—­

    “When Christ was born of Mary free,
    In Bethlehem, in that fair citye,
    Angels sang with mirth and glee,
      In Excelsis Gloria!”

CHAPTER XV

CHRISTMAS DAY

And Mary came.  The brother and sister were at breakfast,—­the happiest which either of them had known for years,—­when there came a timid pull at the front-door bell.  Miss Angelina laid down her knife and fork and looked across the table at Tom.

“She has come.  Mary has come,” she said.  “Norah, if it is a little girl with a package under her arm, bring her in here.”

“Yes’m!” gasped Norah, who believed she was living in a dream where everything was topsy-turvy.  When had a child entered Miss Terry’s dining-room!

Norah disappeared and presently returned ushering in a little girl of ten, with blue eyes and yellow hair.  Under her arm she carried a white-paper package, very badly wrapped.

Miss Terry exchanged with her brother a glance which said, “I told you so!”

The child seemed bashful and afraid to speak; no wonder!

Tom’s kind heart yearned to her.  “Good morning!  Wish you a merry
Christmas, Mary!” he said smiling.

The child gave a start.  “Why, how did you know my name?” she cried.

Tom looked confused.  How indeed did he know?  But Miss Angelina, with a readiness that surprised herself, came to his rescue.

“We were talking of a little girl named Mary,” she said.  “And you look just like her.  What did you come for, dear?”

The little girl hung her head and turned crimson.

“I—­I came to see Angelina Terry,” she whispered.  “I—­I’ve got a doll that belongs to her.”

There was a pause, then Miss Terry said, “Well, go on.”

“I—­I found her on the steps of this house last night, and I ought to have brought her right here then.  But I didn’t.  I took her home.  I hope Angelina was not very unhappy last night.”

Miss Terry smiled upon Tom, who gave a kind, low laugh.

“No,” said Miss Terry.  “Angelina did not worry about her lost doll.  She was thinking about something else,—­the nicest Christmas present that ever anybody had.  But you were a good girl to bring back the doll.”

“No, I’m not a good girl,” said Mary, and her voice trembled.  “I was a wicked girl.  I meant to keep Miranda for myself, because I thought she would be a lovely big doll.  And when I found she was old and homely, somehow I still wanted to keep her.  But it was stealing, and I couldn’t.  Please, will you give her to Angelina, and tell her I am so sorry?” She took Miranda out of the wrapping and held her toward Miss Terry without looking at the doll.  It was as if she were afraid of being tempted once more.