"Why don't you ask Santa Claus, dear?" Norah inquired.
I looked at her quickly. That was Evelyn's friend.
"Who is he, Norah?" I questioned.
She threw up her arms in the air.
"And have I niver told you about him?" she cried. "The quare ould chap that lives up in the chimney!"
"Up in the chimney, Norah! Isn't he hot?" I demanded, in astonishment.
"Faith, there's no fire could warm him," Norah answered, lowering her voice mysteriously.
Then her finger went up in apparent alarm.
"Hush! He's listening! He wants to know which are the good byes and gurrls. When Christmas morning comes the good ones will get prisents. For he owns all the prisents in the world! And the bad ones will get nought, barring switches!"