She was quite excited about it.
Joan thought.

"It's curious," she said, "one so seldom hears of anybody being born on Christmas Day." They were passing a lamp.

Joan had never seen a face look quite so happy as Mary's looked, just then.
"It always seems to me Christ's birthday," she said, "whenever a child is born." They had reached the corner.

Joan could see her bus in the distance.
She stooped and kissed the little withered face.
"Don't stop," she whispered.
Mary gave her a hug, and almost ran away.

Joan watched the little child- like figure growing smaller.