He had nearly forgotten to light Sallie's lamp. What
would Martha say to that? Every night as soon as dusk had fallen, Martha
had insisted upon placing a lamp in the window of what had once been
Sallie's room. If the child came back unexpectedly, she would see the
light shining from her window and know they were waiting and watching
for her. The room itself was as she had left it years ago, her clothes
still hanging in the closet, her slippers laid ready for the tired feet
to slip into them, the fire on the hearth all prepared against the day
of her home-coming, and by night the lamp in the window shining a
welcome that could be seen afar down the road that led from the village.
He must light Sallie's lamp, then off once more into the storm and
darkness to carry a bit of Christmas cheer to the little home in the
hollow.
Nearly an hour later, a thoroughly worn-out but very happy old man sat
by the stove in the farmhouse kitchen. He was too tired even to light
his pipe; he simply sat there and tried to rest. It had been a hard
fight against the storm, but how pleased those poor little children
were! Well, he had done it for Sallie, just one more little sacrifice
for Sallie who was somewhere out there in the cold, weary world, far
from the home of her childhood, far from the ones who loved her best.
Sallie gone? Sallie far away in the storm and darkness? Why no, of
course not.
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