"Is the story of the Christ Child true, Mommy?" quivered one little, thin voice.
"Yes, they told us it was over at the mission Sunday-school," said the littlest child.
"I don't believe it," answered the mother. "God ain't never done much for me."
"It's Christmas eve, ain't it?" asked the boy, climbing up on the thin knees of the threadbare woman and nestling his thin face against a thinner breast which the rags scarcely covered decently.
"Yes, it's Christmas eve."
"And that's the day He came, ain't it?" urged the oldest girl.
"They say so."
"Don't you believe it, Mommy?"
"I used to believe it when I was a girl. I believed it before your father died, but now—"
"Don't you believe it now?" repeated the first child.
"How can I believe it? You're old enough to understand. That's the last scuttle1 of coal we got. We ate the last bit of bread for supper to-night."
"They say," put in the little boy, "that if you hang up your stockings, Santa Claus'll fill 'em, 'cause of the Christ Child."
"Don't you believe it, Sonny," said the mother desperately2.
"I'm going to hang up mine and see," said the littlest girl.
"He's got too many other children to look after," said the woman, "to care for the likes of us, I'm afraid, and—"
"But my Sunday-school teacher said He came to poor people special. He was awful poor Himself. Why, He was born in a stable. That's awful poor, ain't it?" asked the boy.
"When I was a girl," answered the mother, "I lived on a farm and we had a stable there that was a palace to this hole we live in now. No, you'd better not hang up your stockings, none of you."
"And you don't believe in Him, Mommy?"
"No. What would be the use if you hung 'em up and didn't find anything in 'em in the morning?"
"It'd be awful, but I believe in Him," said the littlest girl. "I don't think God has forgot us, really. I'm going to try."
"I tell you 'tain't no use."
"Oh, yes, it is."
"I'm sure it ain't. But have it your own way," said the woman. "If someone would fill your stockings with milk and bread and—"
"I want a turkey," said the oldest girl.
"And cranberry3 sauce," added the boy.
"I want a doll-baby in mine," said the littlest girl.
The mother hid her face and groaned4 aloud.
"You ain't sick, are you, Mommy?"
"I guess so. Come, you'd better say your prayers and go to bed. We don't have to keep the fire going so hard when you're all covered up."
It did not take long for the three little youngsters to divest5 themselves of the rags of clothing they wore. They slept in what passed for their underclothes, so there was no donning of white gowns for the night.
"Here are our stockings, Mommy," said the oldest, handing three ragged6, almost footless, black stockings to the woman.
"It's no use, I tell you. I can't do it."
"It won't do any harm, Mommy," urged the girl.
"Do you believe in it, too?" asked the mother, and the girl shook her head. "You won't be disappointed in the morning if there's nothing in 'em?"
"No, I suppose it will be because Santa Claus was too busy."
With nervous fingers the woman hung the three stockings near the window. She was hungry, she was cold, she was broken, she was a mother. She could scarcely keep from crying.
"Maybe you'll be glad you did it," said the littlest girl drowsily7.
"Ain't you comin' to bed, too, Mommy?" asked the oldest, beneath the covers over the mattress8 on the floor.
"In a little while."
"And you won't forget to say your prayers?"
"I ain't said 'em for months, ever since your father was killed, and we got so poor."
"But you'll say 'em to-night 'cause it's Christmas eve?"
"Yes, to-night," said the mother; "now you go to sleep."
"Are you waitin' for him to come, Mommy?" asked the littlest girl, who was very sleepy.
"Yes," said the mother.
Presently, as she sat in the dark, having turned out the light, the deep breathing of the children told her they were asleep. She rose quietly, stepped to the window, and stood looking at the three shapeless, tattered9 stockings. She was high up in the tenement10 and the moonlight came softly over the house roofs of the city into the bare, cold, cheerless room. She stared at the stockings and tears streamed down her wasted cheeks. She had hung them low at the suggestion of the littlest girl so the children could easily get at them in the morning.
She pressed them against her face.
She pressed them against her face.
After a time she fell down on her knees. She pressed them against her face. She did not say anything. She could scarcely think anything. She just knelt there until something gently drew her head around. She dropped the stockings. She put her right hand on the window-ledge to steady herself and looked backward.
No sound save the breathing of the children and her own stifled11 sobs12 had broken the silence; the door was shut, but a man was there, a man of strange vesture seen dimly in the moon's radiance, yet there was a kind of light about his face. She could see his features. They were those of a man in middle years. They were lined with care. He had seen life on its seamy side. The woman felt that he had known poverty and loneliness. She stared up at him.
"I didn't believe," she whispered; "it cannot be. I thought we were forgotten."
The man slowly raised his hand. The moonlight struck fair upon it. She saw that it was calloused13, the hand of a man who toiled14. It was extended over her head. There was no bodily touch, but her head bent15 low down until she rested it upon her hands upon the floor. When she looked up, the room was empty. There was no sound save the breathing of the children and the throb16 of her own heart which beat wildly in the fearful hollow of her ear.
She heard a sound of strange footsteps outside the door. There was a crackle as of paper, the soft sound of things laid upon the floor, a gentle rapping on the panels, a light laugh, a rustle17 of draperies, footsteps moving away. As in a dream she got to her feet, she knew not how. She opened the door.
The hall was dimly illuminated18. Her feet struck a little heap of joy-bringing parcels. She leaned back against the door-jamb, her hand to her heart, trembling. What could it mean?
A tiny voice broke the silence. It was the littlest girl turning over in her sleep, murmuring incoherently and then clearly:
"If you only believe, that's enough; if you only believe."
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
scuttle
|
|
| v.急赶，疾走，逃避；n.天窗；舷窗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
desperately
|
|
| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
cranberry
|
|
| n.梅果 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
groaned
|
|
| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
divest
|
|
| v.脱去，剥除 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
ragged
|
|
| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
drowsily
|
|
| adv.睡地，懒洋洋地，昏昏欲睡地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
mattress
|
|
| n.床垫，床褥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
tattered
|
|
| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
tenement
|
|
| n.公寓；房屋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
stifled
|
|
| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
sobs
|
|
| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
calloused
|
|
| adj.粗糙的，粗硬的，起老茧的v.（使）硬结，（使）起茧( callous的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）冷酷无情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
toiled
|
|
| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
throb
|
|
| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
rustle
|
|
| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
illuminated
|
|
| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |