“I never told anybody,” said Snythergen.
“Maybe you would rather not say anything about it now,” said Santa Claus sympathetically.
“Oh, I must tell you. I have a father and a mother and I love them very much and they love me. I ran away because they do not make school houses large enough for boys like me. I told my mother I would come back some day. Now I think of it I am afraid I cannot come to live with you—it’s too far away from home.”
“Why, Snythergen, you never told us you had any parents,” said Squeaky.
“I supposed you knew I had. Every boy has to have them. I used to steal away at night in my tree suit and go home when you and Sancho Wing were fast asleep. I would brush my branches on the second story windows until father and mother looked out. I did not dare tell them it was I for fear they would want to send me back to school, and I feared father might spank me.”
“It would take rather a tall man to bend you over his knee,” said Santa Claus.
“Oh, it wasn’t his size, but his voice I was afraid of,” said Snythergen.
“Then your father is a little man?” asked Santa Claus.
“Yes, he and mother are midgets. I guess they adopted me because they admire big things.”
“What does your father do?” asked Santa Claus.