But Mischief slipped away and strolled over to the work-bench where Merrythought sat, his head on his hand.
‘What is the matter, Merrythought?’ asked Mischief kindly. ‘You look as if you had lost your best friend.’
‘I have,’ answered Merrythought, without raising his head, ‘or worse. I have lost Christmas. I don’t like Christmas any more.’
‘What is the matter with Christmas?’ asked Mischief again. ‘You used to like Christmas the best of us all.’
‘I know I did,’ answered Merrythought, ‘but I have had too much of it. I am tired of toys and presents and Christmas Trees, and the very thought of tinsel and silver and gold Tree ornaments makes me shudder from head to foot.’
‘Dear me,’ said Mischief with a little frown, ‘that is too bad. What you need is a change, Merrythought. I am sure you need a change. Why don’t you ask Santa Claus to let you ride with him around the world on Christmas Eve?’
‘He wouldn’t take me,’ answered Merrythought, slowly shaking his head. ‘You know he always says that if he took one Brownie he would have to take all, and that if he took us all we would make so much noise that we would wake the children in their beds. I don’t want to go, anyway. It would be nothing but toys, toys, toys. That is all children think of nowadays, at Christmas, how many toys they are going to get.’
‘I don’t believe all children have so many toys,’ said Mischief. ‘I think if you went with Santa Claus you would see some children who had very little Christmas indeed.’
‘Humph, I don’t,’ answered Merrythought. ‘Think of that sleigh full of toys, enough for the whole world. And I am tired of toys, I tell you. I have made only one toy this year that I really like, and that is Lady Arabella.’
‘Oh, yes, Lady Arabella,’ said Mischief, and walked off without another word.