We were paupers thanks to our Papa who drank beer, spending his modest earnings at the pub. Mamma was in the family way again. I expected little, if anything, Christmas morning under the tree.

"I wish Papa would come home seeing it's Christmas Eve. I don't think he likes us very much, Mamma. It strikes me that we are a bother to him," I said.

"Now now, dear. - Remember, he always sees to it that the wood box is filled and that we have potatoes in the cellar. Why, every Christmas Eve, he arrives home with a turkey from the butcher shop. Isn't that right?" I nodded in shame, a pout pasted to my lips.

Mamma said that Papa was an orphan. He lived on the streets of England, putting in long hours at the workhouses.

"How is he to know how to be a good father without even having one of his own? We must give him time. He will get better at it; I just know he will. And no matter what dear Lucy, remember, 'Thou shalt honor thy father.'" Mamma lived up to her staunch Catholic upbringing with 'The Ten Commandments' printed on the tablets of her heart. However, her deep-sea blue eyes filled with tears that became hard to conceal.

Just then, my little brother tumbled from the kitchen chair and began howling like a wounded pup. Concern for him would deter Mamma's sadness for the time. 
 
Why doesn't Papa come home? The same nagging thought bombarded my mind in constant repetition. The severity of the haunting was unbearable. It was nearing nightfall. I decided to take a stroll down to the rich neighbourhood across the narrow bridge. Shadow, our brown and white spotted hound, would protect me. Mamma made me promise not to dawdle. She expected Papa would soon be home embracing a fat turkey for tomorrow's dinner. My faith was not as solid as Mamma's.

Carolers ambled by singing, 'God rest ye merry gentlemen...' Shadow howled in unison.

White smoke curled gently out of a reddish brick chimney that stood prominently on the side a of a two-story house. Square-paned windows and a heavy wooden door with a black metal-clad latch and knocker trimmed the front entry of the well-to-do home.

The front windows were large. So large, they looked more like shop windows on the busy thoroughfare of the city. A massive Christmas tree stood in the centre adorned with ornaments and candles.

Shadow barked at the skater's on the frozen ice pond. The women looked eye-catching in their long skirted frocks and high brimmed bonnets. I stood in awe for a moment.

"Hello there," a young Miss called out.

"Hello," I managed in an unsure, helpless voice. I wonder if she even heard me. I felt awkward in my ragged coat and stockings.  And what do they think of me.

"What a lovely Christmas Eve, isn't it dear?"

Was she speaking to me? It couldn't be. Soon she'd be running me off. I looked around, but didn't see another soul. It must've been me to whom she was speaking.

"Yes, ma'am," I said, louder and with more tenacity than before. I expected these rich folk to be mean and crotchety.

"What size shoes do you wear?" inquired the young Miss, who cuddled her hands in a large furry muff.

"I don't know ma'am," I replied. She must think we shop for our shoes. We get hand-me-down things from the church. We wear whatever we get whether they fit or not. What would they know of it, these rich folk?"

"My dear, I'll have Laura look up the pair of skates stored in the attic. If by chance they fit, why you'd be most welcome to have a skate with us."

"Oh, ma'am, could I?"

Astounded, I parked myself on the bench straight and still, praying the skates would fit. Next to me sat an elderly, white-haired gentleman. He appeared as though he might have been confused for he seemed to not even notice I was there. I tried to disregard him; however, I did notice that he wore a bushy moustache coiled up at the ends making him look very important.

Suddenly, a thought struck me dumb. Could he be the one that dropped his pocket watch in the snow bank near the post office that day? I skimmed with the corner of my eye, trying to get a better look. He leaned forward pressing his hands on his knees, staring blankly into oblivion. What is the matter with the old fellow? I thought.

A slightly-cambered pipe rested in the corner of his mouth. He gnawed on the mouthpiece, his teeth rattling and clacking as though they loosened in the process. The fragrance smelled soothing somehow.

Shadow sat along side me watching the skaters, her long tail swishing the snow, forming a dog angel. Laura, a plump woman with ebony skin who held the position of a maid I presumed, soon returned with the pair of skates. The front blades curled up. It calling to mind the sleigh that I rode in with Aunt Rebecca. Miss Laura handed them to me, delight sparkling in her eyes.

"Oh, thank you so much." I clung to them,  teardrops freezing to my eyelashes. I removed one scruffy shoe only to replace it instantly. Now what was I to do? There, hidden inside my frosty, wet shoe was a toe peeking out of my stocking. Wouldn't you know it? The young Miss skated over to me.

"Here, I'll help you bind the skates. They must be tightly bound or your ankles will bend, you know?"

Oh, go away, I thought. I wish I had stayed home.

"Your feet are freezing, dear. We must do something about that." How could she not notice the anger and hurt I felt?

"If I remember correctly, there's a pair of stockings stuffed away in these...Yes! Look here," she said, pulling out something fluffy. She removed the wet holey stockings and replaced them with a warm, soft pair. Then she stuffed my feet into the skates and bound them snugly. They were a perfect fit. What had I done to deserve this?

Later, when I grew older and had a chance to reflect, I realized that the young Miss and Aunt Rebecca were comparable in character-two cunning young women with a knack to change a child's mood.

The young Miss helped me up on the clear, slippery surface. As quickly as I stood up, I fell down. Everyone thought it hilarious. My cheeks felt flushed with embarrassment, but I couldn't help but laugh too, at my own contrariness.

Time passed by quickly. The bells at St. Mary's Cathedral began to chime, proclaiming the early Christmas Eve Mass would soon begin.

Then I remembered. "I must get home. Mamma will worry."

Removing the skates for me, Sarah suggested that I keep the warm stockings on my feet as mine were too cold and damp. 

"Lucy! These skates are my Christmas present to you. Please, come and join me for a skate tomorrow, won't you?"

"Oh! Thank-you, Sarah. That would be wonderful," I couldn't help respond. "I'm sure Mamma wouldn't mind."

Shadow and I went on our merry way with the skate laces tied together, skates dangling over my shoulder and warm stockings on my feet. I turned, waved good-bye, and shouted, "Merry Christmas everyone."

What would Mamma think? Worry crept up on me like a sly fox.  Nearing  home, I could hear everyone singing, 'Silent Night,' a candle flickering a dim, orange light through the frosted window. 

I entered, gingerly, for fear I was in trouble for being poky again.

"Well! Guess what, Lucy?" Papa said, drawing me into his arms. Mamma's eyes no longer appeared drawn, but had taken on a look of relief.

"Why, I don't know Papa. Whatever do you mean?" I was so pleased to have him home. Nothing could make me happier, but I was mistaken.

"Things are going to be different from this day forward. I've turned over a new leaf," he said. He carried no foul odor. This wasn't the Papa I knew.

The first thing he shared was that he yearned to be a better father-one that didn't make the pub his home night after night. Secondly, that he had been accepted at a new position as ticket agent at the railway station. I couldn't believe my ears. What had caused him to see his error? How had he even been given the remotest possibility at such a position? Was I dreaming?

Later, Papa confessed that it was Aunt Rebecca's visit, which in some mysterious way, caused him to take a second look at his pathway in life; however, Mamma winked at me when he spoke and I knew as well as she that it was God at the root of it all.