"And I," said old Asher as he struck the log, "I wish for the good of
the horses and cows and all the other live things and," with a terrific
chuckle of mystery, "I wish for things aplenty _this_ night."
"And I," said old Annie, with a terrible look at her imprudent spouse as
she took the poker, "I wish for the harvest--and wit for them that lack
it!"
But Roger had the poker now, his black eyes starry.
"I--I wish for more kind hearts like Aunt Ellen's and the Doctor's," he
burst forth with a strangled sob as the sparks showered gold, "for
more--more sisters like Sister Madge--" his voice quivered and
broke--"and for--for all boys who cannot walk and run--" but Sister
Madge's arm was already around his shoulders and the old Doctor was
patting his arm--wherefore he smiled bravely up at them through
glistening tears.
"Now, now, now, little lad!" reminded the Doctor, "it's Christmas eve!"
Whereupon he drew a chair to the fire and began a wonderful Christmas
tale about St. Boniface and Thunder Oak and the first Christmas tree. A
wonderful old Doctor this--reflected Roger wonderingly. He knew so many
different things--how to scare away tears and all about mistletoe and
Druids, and still another story about a fir tree which Roger opined
respectfully was nothing like so good as Sister Madge's story of the
Cedar King who stood outside his window.
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