Even the wee,
wee mice that were so afraid of the cat had peeped one peep when no one
was by.
But there was someone who hadn't seen the Christmas tree. It was the
little grey spider!
You see, the spiders lived in the corners,--the warm corners of the sunny
attic and the dark corners of the nice cellar. And they were expecting to
see the Christmas Tree as much as anybody. But just before Christmas a
great cleaning-up began in the house. The house-mother came sweeping and
dusting and wiping and scrubbing, to make everything grand and clean for
the Christ-child's birthday. Her broom went into all the corners, poke,
poke,--and of course the spiders had to run. Dear, dear, _how_ the spiders
had to run! Not one could stay in the house while the Christmas cleanness
lasted. So, you see, they couldn't see the Christmas Tree.
Spiders like to know all about everything, and see all there is to see,
and these were very sad. So at last they went to the Christ-child and told
him about it.
"All the others see the Christmas Tree, dear Christ-child," they said;
"but we, who are so domestic and so fond of beautiful things, we are
_cleaned up_! We cannot see it, at all."
The Christ-child was sorry for the little spiders when he heard this, and
he said they should see the Christmas Tree.
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