"He didn't fall from Heaven. God's just been telling me; He never heard
about him."
The Woman smiled. "Never heard about him! It doesn't matter; his Mummy's
heard about him." She stooped to kiss the soft little bundle, for he had
commenced to stir. Then she resumed her singing.
Gradually the day failed. The late afternoon faded into evening. Gray
twilight stole swiftly down. For a while the white fields of snow
outside reflected a vague dimness; then night came with a noiseless
rush, closing up the entrance to the cave with a wall of blackness.
Perched on the Woman's shoulder the robin dozed. She still went on
singing. How long he had been dozing he had no means of telling. He
was wakened by a multitudinous rustling, as of a crowd assembling and
drawing nearer. At first he thought that it was some of the more
persistent of the animals, coming once more to urge the Woman to tell
them how babies happened. Then, of a sudden, he knew that he had been
mistaken. The gloom of the cave was lit up by a glowing brightness.
Peering across the threshold, with all the haloed hosts of Heaven
tiptoeing behind her, was the Virgin Mary. It was the crowd of haloes
that was causing so much brightness.
Stepping to the Woman's side, she gazed down longingly at the small
God-Man.
"I want one. Oh, I want one so badly," she murmured.
The angels, thronging behind her, folded their wings and repeated her
words, "So badly! So badly!" The sound was like a prayer, dying out in
the void which spreads between earth and Heaven.
"Let me hold him," she begged.
Because she was the Virgin, even though it might wake him, the Woman did
not dare to refuse her. But she asserted her authority, as all mothers
must, by pretending that she was the only person who knew how to hold
him properly. And perhaps she was the only one at that moment, for there
was no other mother besides herself in earth or Heaven. She showed the
Virgin how to support his little head because it was wobbly; and how to
keep one arm beneath his back because it was weak; and how he liked to
be cuddled against her breast because it was warm and cushiony. And
then, becoming generous, she taught her the silly little lullaby.
"I shall never go back to Heaven," the Virgin whispered. "I shall stay
here always and help you nurse him."
"Never go back to Heaven," the angels echoed; "stay here always."
The Woman's eyes became troubled. "But I want him to myself," she
faltered. "I don't want helping." Then she ceased to frown, for she had
discovered a stronger argument. "Besides, what about God? You wouldn't
leave Him all by Himself in Heaven. He'd be lonely."
The Virgin nodded her head vigorously. "I would, for I also am a woman.
There are no babies in Heaven. I couldn't be happy without a baby."
Behind her the angels nodded their haloes. "No babies in Heaven.
Couldn't be happy without a baby."
It must have been so much talking that disturbed him; the baby woke up.
As he opened his eyes and saw the Queen of Heaven bending over him, he
smiled. It was his first smile. On the instant the Woman, like all
mothers, became jealous and snatched him back into her own possession.
She liked to believe that no one, not even the Man, could make him as
comfortable as she could. Piling her golden hair upon her knees to make
a pillow for him, she laid him naked on his back and commenced playing
with his toes. If he had not given her his first smile, she would at
least make certain of his second.
She was so taken up with her playing that she did not notice who had
entered. She was the only one who had not noticed. The angels were
cowering against the walls of the cave. The Man had roused and crouched
covering his face with his hands. Only the Virgin stood upright, meek
and fearless, with a look of unconquerable challenge. The Woman was
quite oblivious; she went on with her mother-nonsense. And there stood
God regarding her through a cloud of puzzlement and anger.
The game that she played with the baby-feet she was inventing on the
spur of the moment. Starting with the tiniest toe, she wiggled it.
Then she wiggled the next tiniest, and the next tiniest, and the next
tiniest, till she had come to the biggest of the tiny toes. To each toe
as she wiggled it, she gave a name; when she had wiggled them all she
buried her face in the fat, kicking legs.
"And this is Peedy Peedy," she said as she wiggled the littlest toe.
"And this next babiest is Polly Loody. And this in the middle is Lady
Fissle. And this tall fellow is Lally Vassal. And last we come of the
big, big toe, who's king of them all. His name is Great Ormondon." Then
she dived her lips into the little squirming legs and kissed them as if
she were going to make a meal of them.
She had to do it four times before the baby smiled at her. At first he
only looked serious and astonished. The fifth time his smile broadened
and he gurgled. But the sixth, as she came to "The Great Ormondon," he
burst into a crowing laugh. Never before had a laugh been heard in earth
or Heaven. It was so surprising that the angels ceased from cowering and
the Man uncovered his face to see better.
Then God spoke. His voice was kind and tender like the cooing of
doves--so kind and tender that the Woman, discovering His presence,
wasn't a bit frightened. Sweeping the hair back from her eyes, she
nodded to Him in the old friendly fashion in which she had been used to
greet Him in Eden.
"Can you make him do it again?" God asked.
He came nearer and leant above her shoulder. So she made the baby laugh
again.
"Could I make him?"
"Try," said the Woman.
So God wiggled the little toes, starting with the tiniest, and the Woman
whispered the five magic names to Him secretly so that He might say them
all correctly. "Peedy Peedy. Polly Loody. Lady Fissle. Lally Vassal. And
the Great Ormondon."
When God boomed out the last large sounding name, the baby doubled his
little fists, crowing and laughing unmistakably. Then God laughed, too,
and the Virgin, and all the Hosts of Heaven, and the Man and the Woman,
till at last the dog and the robin couldn't restrain themselves any
longer and joined in His laughter. When once they'd started laughing it
was difficult to stop. Besides, they didn't want to stop. They were
doing it for the first time and they liked the feeling of it. God
laughed till the tears streamed down His face. By the time He held up
His hand for silence, there was scarcely an angel who wasn't wearing his
halo crooked.
"That's done us all good," said God. "I must have a baby for my very own
exactly like him. I almost think that everybody ought to have babies."
Then catching sight of the dog and the robin, He added, "I mean the
animals, too."
He turned to the Man. "What day is this? I've not been counting since I
ceased to walk in Eden."