Christmas midnight
In their vitiated atmosphere , their humanity grew stolidly sullen . Nowhere was a hint of the season 's cheer . The mountains knew only of such celebration as snuggling close to the jug of moonshine , and drinking out the day . Mountain children , who had never heard of Kris Kingle , knew of an ancient tradition that at Christmas midnight the cattle in the barns and fields knelt down , as they had knelt around the manger , and that along the ragged slopes of the hills the elder bushes ceased to rattle dead stalks , and burst into white sprays of momentary bloom . Christmas itself was a week distant , and , at the cabin of the Widow Miller , Sally was sitting alone before the logs . She laid down the slate and spelling-book , over which her forehead had been strenuously puckered , and gazed somewhat mournfully into the blaze . Sally had a secret .