Was there ever anything so wonderful? That he should notice them, and speak to them? Their eyes almost danced out of their heads at this unexpected question. It had never occurred to their innocent little hearts that he would bring them anything, because they were only Chinese, and the Chinese did not believe in Santa Claus; they only believed in the Moon Rabbit.
As he spoke, visions of wonderful things flitted through their minds,—things they dared not name. The lady said to Ah Chee: “Tell him, dear; he would like to give you something.”
Before the child thought, she had spoken the words: “Could you—oh, could you—bling me—a—doll?”
“A doll? Why, yes; of course you shall have a doll,” he said, as the lady looked at him in a meaning way. And then all the boy in little Ah Gong’s repressed nature broke forth, and he hurriedly gasped: “A knife—I likee knife.”
The lady smiled at Santa again, and he said: “And what else, my little man?”
“I likee led (red) wagon—”
“No—no—” whispered the timid sister, “that too muchee—Santa no likee give so muchee.”
Some more mysterious whispering went on, and Santa produced from his fur pocket a little book and pencil, and wrote down a great many things. Ah Chee did not know what he could be writing—perhaps a letter to his wife at the North Pole, but she did not care; she only knew she was going to get what she had longed for all her little lonely life,—a doll,—and her motherly heart warmed and thrilled at the happy thought.
“And what would your mamma like?” he was saying now.
“Oh,—my mo chun; let me see,—I think she likee wahm (warm) shom (blouse) and—that’s all light; you must not give too muchee; you so good—you so good,” she sobbed.