Off through the air sailed Santa Claus, and as Neddie climbed down the tree, after having helped the nice old gentleman, a voice called.
“I’ll see you soon again, Neddie. But don’t tell anybody you saw me for it’s a secret.”
“I won’t,” said Neddie, and he didn’t. Then the little bear boy hurried on home, and he had honey cakes for supper, and he never said a word about Santa Claus. And on the next page, if the umbrella doesn’t climb up the hat tree and pick off all the breakfast oranges, I’ll tell you about Neddie and Beckie in the chimney.
STORY XXXI
NEDDIE AND BECKIE IN THE CHIMNEY
“Neddie, what makes you act so queerly?” asked Beckie Stubtail, the little bear, one morning when she and her brother were on their way to school.
“Queer! Do I act queer?” asked Neddie, as he turned around to see if any snowballs were growing on the end of his tail. None were, I’m glad to say.
“Queer! I really think you do act strange,” said Beckie, as politely as she could, while eating a bun Aunt Piffy had given her.
“What do I do that’s queer?” asked Neddie, curious-like.
“Why, you go around looking up in the air all the while, and listening, and then looking up again. I should think you would get a stiff neck,” said Beckie. “Why do you do it, Neddie?”
“Oh, that’s nothing,” said Neddie, sort of confused like. “I—er—I guess I’m looking up to see if it’s going to snow any more for Christmas.”