Lydia shook her head.
“No, Friend Morris,” said she, “I’m not afraid of Santa Claus. But I want him to give away all his toys, and then I will ask him for my present.”
“But see what Santa Claus has for thee, Friend Lydia,” said Mrs. Morris, leading her to where Santa Claus stood watching them with a smile on his lips. “A beautiful baby doll. Surely that is the present thee wants.”
“No, I want to whisper it in his ear,” persisted Lydia.
She raised her brown eyes to Santa Claus, who looked down at her a moment in silence and then lifted her in his arms.
“What is it, Lydia?” he said softly. “Tell me.”
“I want,” whispered Lydia with her arm about Santa Claus’s neck, “I want a father and a mother, a real father and mother of my own. Miss Martin said you could give a present that wouldn’t go in a stocking. And I will give you back the baby doll.”
Santa Claus thought for a moment, and then he tightened his hold upon the little girl looking so anxiously into his face.
“Now, Lydia,” said he, “I’ll tell you just how it is. I don’t carry that kind of a present around in my bag with me, but I’ll try to get it for you if you are willing to wait a little while for it. You keep the baby doll. Take good care of her, and I’ll go to work and see what I can do for you. How will that be?”
Santa Claus had merry blue eyes, and now he looked straight at Lydia as if he meant what he said.