He sat in the big chair by the fire, and the three looked upward expectantly from the hearthrug.
“Once upon a time there were three little puppies, who lived in a house in the country in the Canine Estates. And their names were Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers.”
The three tails thumped in turn as the names were mentioned, but the children were too excitedly absorbed to interrupt.
“And one year, just before Christmas, they heard a dreadful rumour.”
“What's a rumour?” cried Yelpers, alarmed.
This was rather difficult to explain, so Gissing did not attempt it. He began again.
“They heard that Santa Claus might not be able to come because he was so behind with his housework. You see, Santa Claus is a great big Newfoundland dog with a white beard, and he lives in a frosty kennel at the North Pole, all shining with icicles round the roof and windows. But it's so far away from everywhere that poor Santa couldn't get a servant. All the maids who went there refused to stay because it was so cold and lonely, and so far from the movies. Santa Claus was busy in his workshop, making toys; he was busy taking care of the reindeer in their snow-stables; and he didn't have time to wash his dishes. So all summer he just let them pile up and pile up in the kitchen. And when Christmas came near, there was his lovely house in a dreadful state of untidiness. He couldn't go away and leave it like that. And so, if he didn't get his dishes washed and the house cleaned up for Christmas, all the puppies all over the world would have to go without toys. When Groups and Bunks and Yelpers heard this, they were very much worried.”
“How did they hear it?” asked Bunks, who was the analytical member of the trio.
“A very sensible question,” said Gissing, approvingly. “They heard it from the chipmunk who lives in the wood behind the house. The chipmunk heard it underground.”
“In his chipmonastery?” cried Groups. It was a family joke to call the chipmunk's burrow by that name, and though the puppies did not understand the pun they relished the long word.