When he heard these words, something in him woke: his father loved him! He had never thought of it before, taking for granted the tie of their blood. Now that he knew his father loved him, there would be no more loitering in the mornings and having to be called again. He got up, stumbling blind with sleep, and pulled on his clothes.
And then on the night before Christmas, he lay thinking about the next day. They were poor, and most of the excitement was in the turkey they had raised themselves and in the mince pies his mother made. His sisters sewed presents, and his mother and father always bought something he needed, a warm jacket, maybe, or a book. And he always saved and bought them each something, too.

He wished, that Christmas he was fifteen, he had a better present for his father instead of the usual tie from the ten-cent store. He lay on his side and looked out of his attic window.
"Dad," he had once asked when he was a little boy, "What is a stable?"
"It's just a barn," his father had replied, "like ours."
Then Jesus had been born in a barn, and to a barn the shepherds and the Wise Men had come, bringing their Christmas gifts!

A thought struck him like a silver dagger. Why should he not give his father a special gift, out there in the barn? He could get up earlier, creep into the barn and get all the milking done. And then when his father went in to start the milking, he'd see it all done.
He laughed to himself as he gazed at the stars. It was what he would do, and he mustn't sleep too soundly.

He must have waked twenty times, striking a match each time to look at his old watch.
At a quarter to three, he got up and crept downstairs, careful of the creaky boards, and let himself out. A big star hung low over the roof, a reddish gold. The cows looked at him, sleepy and surprised. It was early for them, too.

But they accepted him calmly and he brought some hay for each cow and then got the milking pail and the big milk cans. He had never milked all alone before, but it seemed almost easy. He smiled and milked steadily, two strong streams rushing into the pail, frothing and fragrant. The cows were behaving well, as though they knew it was Christmas.