'
"Next morning,--that was Christmas-day,--he went out for a walk alone,
apparently oppressed with the thought with which the serious part of
our conversation on the preceding evening had closed. Of course nothing
less than a threepenny piece would do for a crossing-sweeper on
Christmas-day; but one tiny little girl touched his heart so that
the usual coin was doubled. Still this did not relieve the heart of
the giver sufficiently; for the child looked up in his face in a way,
whatever the way was, that made his heart ache. So he gave her a
shilling. But he felt no better after that.--I am following his own
account of feelings and circumstances.
"'This won't do,' said Uncle Peter to himself. 'What is your name?'
said Uncle Peter to the little girl.
"'Little Christmas,' she answered.
"'Little Christmas!' exclaimed Uncle Peter. 'I see why that wouldn't
do now. What do you mean?'
"'Little Christmas, sir; please, sir.'
"'Who calls you that?'
"'Everybody, sir.'
"'Why do they call you that?'
"'It's my name, sir.'
"'What's your father's name?'
"'I ain't got none, sir'
"'But you know what his name was?'
"'No, sir.'
"'How did you get your name then? It must be the same as your father's,
you know.'
"'Then I suppose my father was Christmas-day, sir, for I knows of none
else. They always calls me Little Christmas.
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