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Emmaline slapped her white wicker breakfast tray onto her bed with more vigor than she intended. Her cup of herbal tea sloshed onto her wheat toast. "If I've got to retire," she said, climbing back into bed, "I might as well try to enjoy it."

For forty-five years Emmaline had worked at the post office. Last month the postmaster had told her she had to retire. "I'm sorry, Miss Emmaline, but it's the law."

"Law or no law," she said, dipping her soggy toast into her soft-boiled egg, "a body needs to be needed."

She unrolled the morning newspaper and stared at the headline. "There, now! Just look at that!"

Her trembling finger traced the words:

Mayor Cancels Park Nativity Scene
Jonesboro Mayor Frederick Parker today instructed park employees not to set up the traditional nativity scene in Central Park this year. The creche has been a part of the city's yearly Christmas decorations for more than thirty years. Had civil liberties groups protested the religious figures displayed on public property? Mayor Parker answered, "No, but as mayor, I have an obligation to protect the religious liberties of all."

Emmaline permitted herself a feminine snort. The same old Freddie Parker. Acting just like he did when he was a kid and the terror of East Ninth Street. He doesn't care a hoot about religious liberty. He's running for re-election.

"I wish somebody would put Freddie Parker in his place," she said to her reflection in the bathroom mirror, "and put Jesus back where he belongs!"

"Well, Emmaline," her reflection asked, "why don't you do something about it? Go see the mayor."

"You remember what a rotten kid Mayor Frederick Parker was when he lived next door to us. I might lose my postal pension. And if I starve, you starve."

"Emmaline Effingham Crawford: you know very well you won't lose your pension for being brave enough to stand up to the mayor."

"I know," Emmaline answered herself brokenly, "I need to be brave. All right, I'll try it."

Emmaline dressed quickly, then hurried to catch the bus that went to city hall. The mayor's secretary politely explained he was in conference. Could her business wait until January?

"Oh, no. I need to ask him to let them put up the Christmas creche in the park."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Crawford. The mayor's mind is quite made up about the Christmas scene."

That afternoon, to Emmaline's surprise, the mayor phoned. "Of course I remember you, Miss Emmaline. I'm sorry I was busy when you stopped by."

"Freddie—Mr. Mayor—please let them put the Christmas creche up. You can't have Christmas without Christ."

"Miss Emmaline, there is no room for displays of Jesus on public property in Jonesboro."

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