Hayward sighed and lighted his pipe. However, he had given up and connived with Jim.
On Christmas eve the two men were in hiding behind a clump of cedars in the front yard of Jim's nieces' house. They watched the expressman deliver a great load of boxes and packages. Jim drew a breath of joyous relief.
“They are taking them in,” he whispered--“they are taking them in, Edward!”
Hayward looked down at the dim face of the man beside him, and something akin to fear entered his heart. He saw the face of a lifelong friend, but he saw something in it which he had never recognized before. He saw the face of one of the children of heaven, giving only for the sake of the need of others, and glorifying the gifts with the love and pity of an angel.
“I was afraid they wouldn't take them!” whispered Jim, and his watching face was beautiful, although it was only the face of a little, old man of a little village, with no great gift of intellect. There was a full moon riding high; the ground was covered with a glistening snow-level, over which wavered wonderful shadows, as of wings. One great star prevailed despite the silver might of the moon. To Hayward Jim's face seemed to prevail, as that star, among all the faces of humanity.
Jim crept noiselessly toward a window, Hayward at his heels. The two could see the lighted interior plainly.
“See poor Alma trying on her furs,” whispered Jim, in a rapture. “See Amanda with her coat. They have found the money. See Joe heft the turkey.” Suddenly he caught Hayward's arm, and the two crept away. Out on the road, Jim fairly sobbed with pure delight. “Oh, Edward,” he said, “I am so thankful they took the things! I was so afraid they wouldn't, and they needed them! Oh, Edward, I am so thankful!” Edward pressed his friend's arm.
When they reached Jim's house a great tiger-cat leaped to Jim's shoulder with the silence and swiftness of a shadow. “He's always watching for me,” said Jim, proudly. “Pussy! Pussy!” The cat began to purr loudly, and rubbed his splendid head against the man's cheek.
“I suppose,” said Hayward, with something of awe in his tone, “that you won't smoke in the parlor to-night?”
“Edward, I really can't. Poor woman, she's got it all aired and beautifully cleaned, and she's so happy over it. There's a good fire in the shed, and I will sit there with the pussy-cats until I go to bed. Oh, Edward, I am so thankful that they took the things!”