“Will it?” said Jinnie, without manifesting any trace of interest in the fact.
“Yes, and Kris Kingle is coming to our house. Mamma said so. Does Kris Kingle come to your house on Christmas?”
“Nobody ever comes to our house but the milkman. He is not Kris Kingle, is he?”
“Oh, no! Don’t you hang up your stockings on Christmas eve?”
“I have no stockings to hang up.”
“Where does Kris Kingle put all your pretty things, then?”
“He don’t bring me any. Who is Kris Kingle?”
“Why, don’t you know? He comes in a sleigh full of toys, pulled by reindeer, and—”
“Where does he come from? Ohio?”
“I guess so. But he comes down the chimbley every night before Christmas, and—”