“My fatheh—he die; we no got fatheh.”
Something in the pleading little face, and the quiver in the little red mouths, and the despair in the great oblique eyes must have touched the woman’s heart beneath all its worldly coating. With sudden decision she grasped the two little trembling hands, and throwing all her old false pride to the Christmas winds, stepped boldly into the shop, where all was elegance and warmth and light and beauty.
To her it was an old story. She had long since lost the spirit of Christmas, and the old legend of Santa Claus brought no ecstasy to her, for there were no children at her home to hang up their stockings. The little Chinese children were all eyes now, and forgot their poverty and the bleak darkness of their home as they looked for the first time at all this sparkling beauty. At last they found him—the “ ‘Melican Sanny Claw!” To the lady it was nothing,—such an old, old story,—but to the two little Chinese children it was the perfect and blissful realization of a dream, the one beautiful event in two little barren lives. And now—they actually stood face to face with Santa Claus. Little Ah Gong was glad to see that he was not spitting fire, like the Chinese dragon, and felt quite reassured.
Santa was standing by a sparkling tree all covered with pretty candles, such as they had burned for the joss, and on top of the tree was a great shining star.
“What is that?” said Ah Gong, pointing with his chubby forefinger to the star.
“That? It is the star of Bethlehem,” said the pretty lady, with a queer catch in her voice, while for the first time in her life she realized a little of the true meaning of the star.
They did not understand, and clung closer to each other as they neared the wonderful Santa Claus. He must have come from a very cold country, for he was dressed all in fur, from head to foot, and had rosy cheeks and long white whiskers.
“See,” whispered the little girl to her brother, “it is the heap good ’Melican Santa; do you see him?”
“Yes—yes—I see him; I no ’flaid now,” he said, edging closer to him.
The beautiful lady was whispering to Santa Claus—actually whispering. What a brave lady she must be, and they wondered vaguely what she could have to say to him. And, wonder of wonders! Santa came right up to them, and putting out his big warm hand, clasped the trembling little cold hands of the two children, and said: “What do you want me to bring you?”