He opened his eyes again. The room was growing darker. He almost forgot his pain for a few moments, noticing how the sunlight was straightened to a narrow lane which reached from the extreme southern end of the window to the floor in front of his mother's chair. He watched the last rays as they slowly left the floor and stole up her dress to her lap and her breast, leaving all behind and below in shadow. Now they had reached her face. It was bent over her work. Well he knew that was some Christmas gift, may be for him, some Christmas gift, and tomorrow was Christmas! He looked again to see if he could discover what she was making, but the light had left her now, and had risen to the picture.
Strange picture that it was! What funny clothes those men wore! Those long gabardines, mother had called them, reaching almost to the ground; shoes that showed the toes, and hoods for hats. One of them had none. How closely they looked at him! They didn't even see which way they were going, and what a long way it was, stretching out there, dusty and hot.

License information: nan
MPAA: G
Go to source: http://www.gutenberg.org/files/5662/5662-h/5662-h.htm#link2H_4_0002