A knock came at the door of Tommie Johnson's home. "Miz Johnson," said one of the townsfolk, "We were wondering . . . well, we were wondering . . . We need a Mary and a Joseph for the manger we've built . . . it won't be long . . . we're just going to stand around the manger and sing some carols while we wait for Christmas to come . . . could little Tommie and . . . and Julie Stevens play Mary and Joseph for us? We need one of Julie's dolls for a baby Jesus, too.
Naomi Johnson thought for a moment, looked at her husband who nodded and said, "Sure, well, I guess so. We will just wrap the kids in sheets and towels so they will look the part and won't get cold . . ."
"Miz Johnson . . ?" it was Julie pulling at Naomi Johnson's apron. "Miz Johnson . . . I ain't got no doll." The grown-ups thought for a moment, and someone said, "That's all right . . . we will make do with something . . . Hurry! It's almost time!" With that, they all hurried off toward the big fir and the war memorial.
The townsfolk began to gather around the manger and the big fir. Tommie and Julie looked beautiful as Mary and Joseph. Clouds of vapor steamed from the nostrils of the animals. The cow, donkey and the horses bent to eat the straw. People stood around rubbing their hands and stomping their feet to keep warm. Not a soul was left in their homes. There was still no baby Jesus. No one knew quite what to do.
A dog barked. Not once or twice, but persistently as if calling attention to a danger. Someone said, "Go shut that mutt up so we can sing our carols." The barking became louder and more demanding. It was coming from the alley near the trash barrels. "Found himself a rat to bark at I reckon," said another. The pastor went to investigate. In a moment the barking stopped.
"Preacher has a way with them dawgs . . . musta laid hands on 'im 'n prayed," they laughed. But then they all turned in the direction where the preacher had gone . . . What they saw was . . . well, it's kind of mysterious and all. Tommie gasped as he recognized the big dog trotting without a trace of a limp toward the manger with the pastor following. The pastor carried a bundle . . . or something, wrapped in old burlap. The crowd parted to make way for them. It was a doll. The pastor said that he had found it in the trash bins.
"Funny," said the minister, "that old cur was barking at this doll as if he thought it was real." Without further hesitation, he took the doll and laid it in the manger. "It's a boy," announced the preacher. Anyway, this is where he belongs right now." Mary, (that is, Julie Stevens), looked lovingly at the doll. Being a child for whom a miracle was no big thing, she was not overly surprised when the doll smiled sweetly at her from the straw.
