It was Christmas Eve. I was feeling sad because there wasn't enough money to buy the dress I wanted. It was a cold night, and there was ice on Dad's hair when he came back home. He asked me to help load* wood. I was upset. Not only wasn't I getting the dress; now Dad was dragging me out in the cold.
I asked what he was doing.
"Have you been to the Clark's recently?" Dad asked.
Mrs. Clark lived two miles from us. Her husband died a year ago, leaving her with three children.
"Yeah, why?"
"They're out of wood." Dad then carried a bag of food over his shoulder and a smaller bag in his hand.
"What's in the little bag?" I asked.
"Shoes. They're out of shoes. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn't be
Christmas without some candy. "
We rode to the Clarks place in silence. I tried to think through what Dad was doing. The Clarks had closer neighbors than us. Why was it our concern*?
We knocked on the door. A timid voice said, "Who is it?" "James Cotton, and my daughter. Could we come in?" Mrs. Clark opened the door and lit the lamp.
"We brought a few things, ma'am," Dad said, and set the food on the table. He handed her the other bag. She opened it and took out the shoes, a pair for her and three for the children.
She bit her lip as tears ran down her cheeks. "We brought wood," Dad said. He turned to me, "Elizabeth, go bring in. Let's get that fire. "
The kids giggled* when Dad handed them candy, and Mrs. Clark looked with a smile. She said. "I know God sent you. We prayed*that he would send one of his angels to us. "
At the door, Dad invited them for Christmas dinner tomorrow. With a look of deep thankfulness, Mrs. Clark said, "Thank you. I don't have to say 'May God bless you'. I know he will. "
On the way home, Dad explained why he didn't buy me a dress. "I spent the money on shoes and candy for those children. I hope you understand. " he said.
I understood very well. My father had given me a gift much greater than a dress.
a. a dress b. some wood c. a bag of food d. shoes e. money f. candy