The Most Beautiful Gift Read Online Free PDF Page B

window to the street, the lawn, and all the trees. “Look, the sky is clear. It probably won’t snow until
     after Christmas. What kind of a holiday is it without snow?”
    Grampa stood up and stared at the window. “Well, if that’s all it is,” he murmured. “You know, I have something to confess.
     I know just a little magic myself. Perhaps I am a distant relative of Buffello.”
    Mark stared at him in astonishment.
    “Sometimes, in order to get your wish, all you need to do is concentrate and think about it very hard,” said the old man.
     “C’mon, let’s both give it a try.”
    “And what are we supposed to think about?”asked the little boy. His grandfather’s explanation had not been entirely clear.
    “About the snow, of course!” exclaimed the old man. “And that Camolino decides to do his job!”
    Mark bowed his head. “I pray to you, little angel,” he began to say to himself. “C’mon, let it really come down. A beautiful
     white blanket, covering the houses and trees, so that children can play, sliding fast on their sleds and making big snowmen
     with carrot noses and button eyes.”
    The sky remained clear. There wasn’t even the shadow of a snowflake.
    “See,” declared the boy, discouraged. “It doesn’t work. It will never work.”
    “Are you absolutely sure about that?” Grampa asked him. “Look a little more closely, over there, among the clouds.”
    Mark got up and pressed his nose against the windowpane. Suddenly, he thought he saw, up high, a crooked halo, then a pair
     of short, short wings. He rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand. It wasn’t possible. The halo continuedto shine in the sky, like a morning star.
    “Grampa,” he gasped, his heart filled to the brim with surprise. “It’s Camolino!”
    “Of course, it is he,” replied Grampa Gus, putting his arm around his grandson. “He has finally decided to get to work.”
    “But how did you know? How did you reach him?”
    “It was partly your doing. Children are close to angels, because they left them only a short time ago. And so are we old people,
     because it’s not long until we join them again.”
    Among the clouds, there was a rapid beating of wings. A delicate, delicate wisp fell from the sky, then another, and then
     one after that. In a few minutes, the brown grass was covered with a sheet of bright white. And the tree branches changed
     from brown to marble white. The scene looked as if it had been drawn in chalk on a blackboard.
    “Do you think it will keep snowing until tomorrow?” asked Mark, his voice full of hope.
    “Yes, I do believe it will. Camolino is giving it his all.” Grampa picked up his thriller. “Why don’t you go outside and play?”
    Mark didn’t wait to hear him say it twice. Even the little voice spurred him along. “Go, go.” He didn’t even take off his
     pajamas. He ran to his bedroom, put on a sweater, then his windbreaker, and pulled on his boots.
    Outside, the snowflakes danced a winter dance. Mark twirled around with them, gathering them with his fingers, letting them
     fall all over him, tasting them with the tip of his tongue. Their flavor was of magic and faraway lands. Millions of little
     white jewels, one for every good person on earth.
    In the distance, he heard the echoing of bells. Christmas was arriving in great strides. Down the street, two other children
     were making snowballs and tossing them at each other. Mark joined them and shouted with joy.
    The silence was growing, smothering the sounds and the hurried activities of the street: the silence of Christmas Eve.

Christmas
     
    I n the kitchen, Grampa looked upward. “Peace on earth,” he murmured. He instinctively brought his hands together, palm against
     palm, in a gesture as old as the centuries but as modern as the millennium to come. “Peace on earth and good will to humankind.”
    High in the sky, from a tiny cloud, Camolino straightened his halo and winked.
    And he continued to make