“You won’t forget?” asked Lydia.
“I won’t forget,” said Santa Claus. “I promise.”
He put Lydia on the ground with a parting pat on her head.
“And now I must be off,” said he. “My reindeer won’t stand much longer. I believe they’re out on the lawn here now. Merry Christmas, children! ‘Merry Christmas to all and to all a good-night!’”
And Santa Claus was out of the window, across the porch, and out of sight before you could turn around. The jingle of the sleigh-bells died away, the Christmas party was over, and it was time to go to bed.
Lydia slowly climbed the stairs with the new dolly in her arms. Mary Ellen was beside her, admiring her own Red Cross nurse as she went.
“What shall you name your doll?” asked Mary Ellen. “Mine is Florence Clara Barton Nightingale. See the little ring your doll has. And a gold locket round her neck.”
“Her name is Lucy Locket,” answered Lydia in a flash. “I’ve thought of it just this minute.”
Upstairs ten little boys popped into bed before you could say Jack Robinson. They had no long hair to be brushed and braided. But Miss Martin and good-natured Nurse Norrie worked quickly, and before long ten little girls were tucked snugly into their beds too. Miss Martin lighted the night light and turned to go.
“‘Merry Christmas to all and to all a good-night,’” said Miss Martin softly, just like Santa Claus.