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Authors: Louisa May Alcott
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opened the front door that Christmas morning, she gave a loud cry, clapped her hands together, and then stood still, quite speechless with wonder and delight. There, near the stoop, lay a great pile of firewood all ready to be burned. There was also a large bundle and a basket with a lovely nosegay of winter roses, holly, and evergreen tied to the handle.
âOh, Mother! Who could have left it?â cried Tilly, pale with excitement and the surprise of it all. She stepped out to bring in the basket, and her mother, a few steps behind, stooped down to scoop up the bundle.
âThe best and dearest of all Christmas angels is called âCharity,ââ Tillyâs mother answered, her eyes welling with tears as she undid the bundle. âShe walks abroad at Christmastime doing beautiful deeds like this, and never staying to be thanked.â
It was all thereâall that Tilly had imagined. There were warm, thick blankets, the comfortable shawl, a pair of new shoes, and best of all, a pretty winter hat for Bessy. The basket was full of good things to eat, and on the flowers lay a small note saying, âFor the little girl who loves her neighbor as herself.â
âMother, I really do think my little bird is an angel in disguise and that all these splendid things came from him,â said Tilly, laughing and crying with joy.
It really did seem so. As Tilly spoke, the robin flew to the table, hopped to the nosegay, and perching among the roses, began to chirp with all his little might. The sun streamed in on the flowers, the tiny bird, and the happy child with her mother. No one saw a shadow glide across the window or ever knew that Mr. King had seen and heard the little girls the night before. No one ever dreamed that the rich neighbor had learned a priceless lesson from his poor, little neighbor girl.
And Tillyâs bird was a Christmas angel, for by the love and tenderness she gave to the helpless little creature, she brought good gifts to herself, happiness to an unknown benefactor, and the faithful friendship of a little friend who did not fly away, but stayed with her until the snow was gone, making summer for her in the wintertime.
What Love Can Do
T HE SMALL ROOM HAD NOTHING IN IT BUT A bed, two chairs, and a big chest. A few little gowns hung on the wall, and the only picture was the wintry sky, sparkling with stars, framed by the uncurtained window. But the moon, pausing to peep, saw something touching and heard something pleasant. Two heads in little, round nightcaps lay on one pillow, two pairs of wide-awake blue eyes stared up at the light, and two tongues were going like bell clappers.
âIâm so glad we finished our shirts in time! It seemed as though we never should, and I donât think six cents is half enough for a great, red flannel shirt with four buttonholes, do you?â said one voice rather wearily.
âNo, but then we each made four, and fifty cents is a good deal of money. Are you sorry we didnât keep our quarters for ourselves?â asked the other voice with an undertone of regret.
âYes, I am, till I think how pleased the children will be with our tree, for they donât expect anything at all and will be so surprised. I wish we had more toys to put on it, for it looks so small and mean with only three or four things hanging from it.â
âOh, it wonât hold anymore, so I wouldnât worry about it. The toys are very red and yellow, and I guess the babies wonât know how cheap they are but like them as much as if they cost heaps of money.â
With that brave, cheery reply, the four blue eyes turned toward the chest under the window, and the kind moon did her best to light up the tiny tree standing there. A very pitiful little tree it wasâonly a branch of hemlock in an old flowerpot propped up with bits of coal and hung with a few penny toys earned by the patient fingers of the elder sisters that the younger ones should
âOh, Mother! Who could have left it?â cried Tilly, pale with excitement and the surprise of it all. She stepped out to bring in the basket, and her mother, a few steps behind, stooped down to scoop up the bundle.
âThe best and dearest of all Christmas angels is called âCharity,ââ Tillyâs mother answered, her eyes welling with tears as she undid the bundle. âShe walks abroad at Christmastime doing beautiful deeds like this, and never staying to be thanked.â
It was all thereâall that Tilly had imagined. There were warm, thick blankets, the comfortable shawl, a pair of new shoes, and best of all, a pretty winter hat for Bessy. The basket was full of good things to eat, and on the flowers lay a small note saying, âFor the little girl who loves her neighbor as herself.â
âMother, I really do think my little bird is an angel in disguise and that all these splendid things came from him,â said Tilly, laughing and crying with joy.
It really did seem so. As Tilly spoke, the robin flew to the table, hopped to the nosegay, and perching among the roses, began to chirp with all his little might. The sun streamed in on the flowers, the tiny bird, and the happy child with her mother. No one saw a shadow glide across the window or ever knew that Mr. King had seen and heard the little girls the night before. No one ever dreamed that the rich neighbor had learned a priceless lesson from his poor, little neighbor girl.
And Tillyâs bird was a Christmas angel, for by the love and tenderness she gave to the helpless little creature, she brought good gifts to herself, happiness to an unknown benefactor, and the faithful friendship of a little friend who did not fly away, but stayed with her until the snow was gone, making summer for her in the wintertime.
What Love Can Do
T HE SMALL ROOM HAD NOTHING IN IT BUT A bed, two chairs, and a big chest. A few little gowns hung on the wall, and the only picture was the wintry sky, sparkling with stars, framed by the uncurtained window. But the moon, pausing to peep, saw something touching and heard something pleasant. Two heads in little, round nightcaps lay on one pillow, two pairs of wide-awake blue eyes stared up at the light, and two tongues were going like bell clappers.
âIâm so glad we finished our shirts in time! It seemed as though we never should, and I donât think six cents is half enough for a great, red flannel shirt with four buttonholes, do you?â said one voice rather wearily.
âNo, but then we each made four, and fifty cents is a good deal of money. Are you sorry we didnât keep our quarters for ourselves?â asked the other voice with an undertone of regret.
âYes, I am, till I think how pleased the children will be with our tree, for they donât expect anything at all and will be so surprised. I wish we had more toys to put on it, for it looks so small and mean with only three or four things hanging from it.â
âOh, it wonât hold anymore, so I wouldnât worry about it. The toys are very red and yellow, and I guess the babies wonât know how cheap they are but like them as much as if they cost heaps of money.â
With that brave, cheery reply, the four blue eyes turned toward the chest under the window, and the kind moon did her best to light up the tiny tree standing there. A very pitiful little tree it wasâonly a branch of hemlock in an old flowerpot propped up with bits of coal and hung with a few penny toys earned by the patient fingers of the elder sisters that the younger ones should
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