Maisie's Merry Christmas by Nina Rhoades

It was Christmas Eve. All day the rain had fallen in a steady down-pour, but at about four o'clock the wind had suddenly changed, the sky cleared, and Nice had been treated to one of the glorious sunsets for which the place is famous. The wind blew in sharp gusts through the streets, giving an almost wintry feeling to the air, and Maisie, who had gone out for a brisk walk with her father, gave little skips of delight, declaring that it was really beginning to feel like Christmas.

But in Maman Remo's tiny house, where the wind found its way through every crack, it was not so pleasant. Indeed, it was most uncomfortably chilly, for the fire in the stove had gone out, and there was nobody to relight it. Maman Remo had not yet come home, and Celeste had been forbidden to go near the stove. When Pierre was at home he usually attended to the fire, but now the little blind girl was quite alone. It was growing dark, too, but that Celeste did not notice, for to her night and day were all the same, but the afternoon had seemed unusually long, and she was beginning to wonder what could have kept Maman Remo out so late.