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Then Silas knelt before little Beth. “Once,” he said, “I had a wooden horse. I kept it in a drawer. But I think — I think it is time to let it play.”

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Beside the grave, a young man in a sailor’s coat knelt — Thomas, returned at last, but too late. He placed a wooden soldier on the frozen dirt. Then Silas knelt before little Beth

“Come, miser,” he boomed. “Let’s see what you’ve missed.” But I think — I think it is time to let it play

They stood in a small kitchen, warm with the smell of cinnamon. A young woman with red hair — his late wife, Eliza — was teaching a small boy to carve a wooden soldier. The boy laughed, and Silas felt a crack in his ribs where something had once lived.