“Booful, booful,” said the child, whose vocabulary seemed limited by reason of her excited delight.
And then a jingle, as of tiny sleighbells, was heard outside. The door flew open, and in came a personage whom May recognised at once.
“Santa Claus!” she cried. “Oh, Santa Claus!” And jumping up from the floor, she ran to meet him as fast as her little fat legs could carry her.
“Down on the floor!” she cried, tugging at his red coat. “Baby May’s Santa Claus! Sit down on floor by baby May!”
Jim Kenerley, who was arrayed in the regulation garb of a St. Nicholas, sat down beside his little girl, and taking his pack from his back, placed it in front of her.
“All for baby May!” she said, appreciating the situation at once.
“Yes, all for baby May,” returned her mother, for in the pack were only the child’s presents.
One by one the little hands took the gifts from their wrappings, and soon the baby herself was almost lost sight of in a helter-skelter collection of dolls and teddy bears and woolly dogs and baa lambs and more dolls. To say nothing of kittens and candies, and balls, and every sort of a toy that was nice and soft and pleasant.
The doll Patty had brought, with its wonderful wardrobe, pleased the baby especially, and she declared at once that the doll’s name should be Patty.
Having undone all her treasures, the baby elected to have a general romp with Santa Claus, whom she well knew to be her father. Jim had made no attempt to disguise lest it should frighten the child, and so his own gay young face looked out from a voluminous snow-white wig and long white beard. His costume was the conventional red, belted coat, edged with white fur, and a fur-trimmed red cap with a bobbing tassel.