“Santy Claus—he come—come way up in air,” explained Buddy.
“Well, maybe—if there is a Santa Claus—” answered Uncle John.
“Santy he come way up in air—come right down tree—he do,” explained Buddy.
“Travels in an airship?—a Santa for boys and girls to talk about, I suppose,” continued Uncle.
“Climb right down tree—huh?” added Buddy questioningly.
“Probably that would be a handy way, all right,” agreed Uncle, smiling and bobbing his head. For a long time Buddy sat studying the tree and the new idea that had gotten into his mind. About this time Mama’s voice called from the doorway and told them that dinner was ready. When dinner was over Buddy was to take his usual nap.
“No want sleep,” was his remark as he rubbed his eyes. Mama went on rocking just as tho he had not spoken.
“Haint Buddy got no daddy?”
The big, round eye looked up sleepily and earnestly.
Mama did not answer, but she clasped her little boy tightly in her arms. Soon the sandman began to trip around, at first on tip toe, ever so quietly, and as Mama rocked and hummed Buddy little by little found his eyes so heavy they would not keep open.