He took my little book, and read the title on its green paper cover aloud.
I spoke up faintly as soon as he had finished, saying, “My grandmother gave it to me—you can have it.”
“Thanks,” said he, and laughed, which so took me down that I could not keep back my tears.
“Are you a good boy?” he asked.
“He's one of the best boys in the county, and I'm going to keep track of him,” said the storekeeper, and I was glad, for I was not able to answer.
“Now,” said he to Santa Claus, “I want you to take him home and give them all a merry Christmas.”
Well, they put a little fur coat upon me and a piece of goat-skin for a beard, and a baby pack-basket, and filled it with grand things for my mother and sister, and put a stub of a pipe in my mouth.
The man took me home, and I was forgiven, I fancy, on account of my looks, for who could punish a fairy Santa Claus? And, all in all, what a merry Christmas we had! I had exchanged the little green book for something better, of which I shall try to tell you.
As to Lizzie McCormick, she remained a ghost, and probably found better company, for I never saw her again, although sometimes I have heard her whisper in the darkness. She taught me that ghosts are easily conquered if a boy will be stern with them.
But there remains with me a strange souvenir of our parting, and that is the horruck. It was a real thing; I have it now, a big silver dollar. Here it is. Look at the odd device stamped on the face of the coin: