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CHRISTMAS
CHRISTMAS
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CHRISTMAS
I
It was in October that Mary Chavah burned over the grass of her lawn,
and the flame ran free across the place where in Spring her wild flower
bed was made. Two weeks later she had there a great patch of purple
violets. And all Old Trail Town, which takes account of its neighbours'
flowers, of the migratory birds, of eclipses, and the like, came to see
the wonder.
"Mary Chavah!" said most of the village, "you're the luckiest woman
alive. If a miracle was bound to happen, it'd get itself happened to
you."
I
It was in October that Mary Chavah burned over the grass of her lawn,
and the flame ran free across the place where in Spring her wild flower
bed was made. Two weeks later she had there a great patch of purple
violets. And all Old Trail Town, which takes account of its neighbours'
flowers, of the migratory birds, of eclipses, and the like, came to see
the wonder.
"Mary Chavah!" said most of the village, "you're the luckiest woman
alive. If a miracle was bound to happen, it'd get itself happened to
you."
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