“We don’t mind that,” said Sancho Wing. “Snythergen built a house and table!”
“Speak for yourself,” said Snythergen. “Tell Santa Claus what you can do.”
“Yes, Sancho, what work can you do?” asked Santa Claus.
“Oh, I’m a good watch bird,” said Sancho Wing. “I can get up close to people and hear all they say, and see all they do without being seen myself. If necessary there is always some little place for me to hide. I can dodge into a man’s coat pocket—or”—(with a sly look at Santa Claus)—“creep into his beard!”
“I can testify to that,” said Santa Claus emphatically.
“And Squeaky here, what can he do?” asked Santa Claus.
“I will say this for him,” said Snythergen, “he’s good about visiting. Usually he sleeps while I work so as to be bright and lively when I want to rest. He entertains me and makes me forget my troubles.”
“Your troubles!” said Santa Claus in surprise—“I didn’t think you had any.”
“Oh, yes, plenty of them! The little ones, such as”—(with a look at Squeaky)—“pigs nibbling my toes, woodpeckers stabbing my trunk, bears biting my roots, bothersome nest-builders”—(here Snythergen winked at Sancho Wing)—“tickling my branches; woodchoppers plotting against my life—these are bad enough. But my big trouble—” His face grew long and a great tear trembled on his cheek and splashed down on Squeaky’s head, making him jump.
“What is the big trouble?” asked Santa Claus kindly, while Sancho Wing and Squeaky looked up in surprise.