"Lost? You don't mean all of them?"
"I'm--I'm afraid so." Peggy looked shamed-facedly at the carpet. "We both had our arms full, and I'm sure neither of us had a bundle coming home in the car. I suppose when I found Dorothy was lost, I let everything drop."
"And when Dorothy saw the Santa Claus she probably did the same," said Mrs. Raymond, laughing a little. "It isn't a great loss as far as their value is concerned, but I'm afraid she will be dreadfully disappointed."
"I can slip down town to-morrow, mother, and get duplicates of everything. But I guess I'll go alone. I don't feel equal to taking Dorothy shopping again till Christmas is over."
Peggy stole into Dorothy's room as she went upstairs to bed, just to make sure she was really there. The little face against the pillow was charmingly angelic. Dorothy asleep showed no traces of the mischief and elfishness which rendered the Dorothy awake a care as well as a delight. As Peggy stood looking down on her, Dorothy moved restlessly, and murmured the wonderful contribution that day had made to her fund of knowledge.
"There's two--of Santa Claus."
CHAPTER XIII
CHRISTMAS CELEBRATIONS
"Hello, Central. That was the wrong number. I want White 6492, please. No, White. Yes, please."
It was the day before Christmas. At the telephone exchanges the girls, half beside themselves between the people inquiring anxiously as to the fate of packages not yet delivered, and others bent on extending the compliments of the season to their friends, were making connections with the haste which results in waste. Peggy, who was trying to telephone Elaine, and had twice received the wrong number, rolled her eyes impatiently in her mother's direction.