“A stranger lad, lost on the roadside,” murmured the mother, as she took the boy from Jan and carefully undressed him, the children meanwhile attending to the nearly frozen fox.

“Poor child! poor child! he shall be welcome.  A sorry Christmas it is for him.”

“Not when he fell into your hands, good mother,” said Franz, ladling out the soup.

“No indeed—­no indeed,” said one and all.

But the mother’s words seemed to be the truth, for though the child revived, and was able to take nourishment, a fever set in, from which he did not rally.  Day by day he lay in the little curtained recess where he could see them all with his great wondering eyes, watching them carve their beautiful toys—­for this was their winter work—­but saying nothing, for he knew not their language, and only one word had he uttered which they could understand.

This word was simply “Edelweiss.”  “Edelweiss,” he muttered, when the fever was at its height, and “Edelweiss” he softly whispered when dreaming.

The children called him “Little Edelweiss,” and fed his fox, which lapped their hands and brought a sweet smile to the face of the little sufferer.

Christmas-eve would be on the morrow, and all were busy dressing the room with boughs of evergreen.  The tree stood in the corner, waiting for its glittering fruit.  Outside the sheaf of grain had been tied to a pole for the snow-birds.  All had some trifling gifts prepared for a joyful keeping of the day, Franz only seemed to be uneasy.  He would glance at the pale face of his little foundling, and then he would look out to see if the weather was fine, and at last he reached up for his thickest wrap and staff, and away he went up the mountain-side.  Nothing could be seen up that way but the red roof of a convent, and peak after peak of ice piercing the blue sky.

It was late when he returned and put something carefully behind the tree.  All were waiting for their supper, for they were anxious to go to bed that the dear Christmas might the sooner come.

His mother scolded a little, but the stranger boy put up his thin hand reprovingly, as if he could not bear to have Franz rebuked, and then they all laughed, for they all loved Franz.

But soon they were sleeping quietly, and the moon shone upon happy faces—­only the little guest tossed and murmured “Edelweiss.”

The morrow came, and with it many a merry greeting.  And now they could hardly wait for the day to pass.  Long before dark the table was set with its sausages and spice-cake, and beside each plate a mysterious packet—­for the tree bore only glittering trifles.  And when the girls in their pretty scarlet bodices and whitest chemisettes sat down, and the mother reverently asked God’s blessing on their food, all broke into a joyful carol.  Then they examined their gifts, and the little stranger was given his share of the good things.

But just then Franz arose and brought from behind the tree a curious looking box.  Tearing off the papers a small but hardy plant was revealed, and putting it in the hands of the invalid, Franz pointed to its buds and said one word, “Edelweiss.”