Now the day of the birth of our Lord dawned that year grey and dreary, and a Saturday. But, despite the weather, in the town at the foot of the hill there was rejoicing, as befitted so great a festival. The day before a fat steer had been driven to the public square and there dressed and trussed for the roasting. The light of morning falling on his carcass revealed around it great heaps of fruits and vegetables.
By Mary Roberts Rinehart, an American writer, whose literary heritage consists of eig
ht plays, hundreds of short stories, poems, detectives, for which she is most famous today: Rinehart is often called the American Agatha Christie.
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