“I mean what is your last name?”
“Carstairs,” answered the little girl. “Now you tell us who you are. You aren’t Santa Claus, are you? I don’t hear any reindeers outside, or bells, and you haven’t any pack, and you’re not by the fireplace where our stockings are.”
“I sought dat Santy Claus tame down de chimney,” said the younger of the twain.
“No,” said the man, “I’m not exactly Santa Claus, I’m his friend—I—”
What should he say to these children? In his bewilderment for the moment he actually forgot the letter which he still held tightly in his hand.
“Dat’s muvver’s safe,” continued the little boy. “She keeps lots o’ things in it. It’s all hers but dat drawer. Dat’s papa’s and—”
“I think I hear some one on the stairs,” broke in the little girl suddenly in great excitement. “Maybe that’s Santa Claus.”
“Perhaps it is,” said the man, who had also heard. “You wait and watch for him. I’ll go outside and attend to his reindeer.”