[Exit Wish-Bone, R. door.
Santa Claus. He's about the gloomiest creature I ever saw; and yet he struck sort of a hopeful note when he said people would get what they wished for if they only believed it. I wonder how that would work out in my case. (The Sand-Man enters, R. door.) Ah! here comes the Sand-Man back again. Well, how did things go with you to-night? Is your sand-bag empty?
Sand-Man. Almost. It takes a powerful lot of sand to make the children sleepy the night before Christmas.
Santa Claus. And are the dreams all gone too?
Sand-Man. Not quite. There was one little girl who refused to go to bed at all, because she is so anxious to see Santa Claus when he comes. I had two nice dreams picked out for her but I couldn't use them. Well, my evening's work is over. (Dropping his bags on the table.) I suppose you'll be starting soon now.
Santa Claus. Pretty soon. But what you told me about that little girl has put me on my guard. It would never do to let her see me while I am filling her stocking. So I think I'll sit down by the fire and wait for a few minutes. She won't be able to keep awake very long. If you see my Imps around anywhere, send them along in here. Lazy little scamps! It's time they were helping me to pack up the toys. (As the Sand-Man goes out, L. door, Santa Claus draws his chair up to the fireplace, where he sits musing with his eyes half-closed; yawning.) I—wish—I—could—know—what the children are dreaming about to-night.
(The two Imps enter, L. door, and tiptoe forward cautiously.)
First Imp (whispers). Is Santa Claus asleep?
Second Imp. No, he's only thinking. But we could make him go to sleep if we wanted to. Here's the Sand-Man's bag, and it isn't quite empty. Wouldn't it be fun to drop some sand in Santa's eyes!
First Imp. Hush! He'll hear you.