"Wind must be rising. Every
time that front door opens, I feel it."
"Yeah," Papa told her, "the wind has come up. A pretty night,
though. Stars out. The moon full. Perfect for Christmas Eve."
I twisted round to see who was letting more of that Christmas
wind swoosh through the church door. It was stirring up the
leaves of my dress, and they had to stay down smooth and nice!
It was Miss Ophelia, bringing in her string of little
red-headed young'uns and Miss Dink. But Miss Ophelia didn't have
her new little baby with her. It was just as well that she hadn't
brought him. She was having to use one hand to lead her two
little girls down the aisle and the other to guide Miss Dink
along and keep her from bumping against the heater. Why'd Miss
Dink come, anyway? She couldn't see our high, sparkling tree, or
the toys and presents, or the red paper bells and streamers
hanging in clusters from the ceiling. Miss Dink couldn't even see
my tree dress!
There were so many of Miss Ophelia's kids I could tell it was
going to take nearly two benches to hold them.
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