The Imp in the Chintz Curtain.
He was a wicked-looking Imp, and he lived in a bed curtain.
No one knew he was in the house, not even the master and mistress. The little girl who slept in the chintz-curtained bed was the only person who knew of his existence, and she never mentioned him, even to her old nurse.
She had made his acquaintance one Christmas Eve, as she lay awake, trying to keep her tired eyes open long enough to see Santa Klaus come down the chimney. The Imp sprang into view with a cr-r-r-ick, cr-r-r-ack of falling wood in the great fireplace, and there he stood bowing to Marianne from the left-hand corner of the chintz curtain.
A green leaf formed his hat, some straggling branches his feet; his thin body was a single rose-stem, and his red face a crumpled rose-bud.
A flaw in the printing of the chintz curtain had given him life—a life distinct from that of the other rose leaves.
"You're lying awake very late to-night—what's that for?" he enquired, shaking the leaf he wore upon his head, and looking at Marianne searchingly.
"Why, don't you see I'm waiting for Santa Klaus?" replied Marianne. "I've always missed him before, but this time nothing shall make me go to sleep!" She sat up in bed and opened her eyes as widely as possible.