"WHO is going to hang up a stocking to-night?" asked Fred, as the children watched their father and uncle while they dressed the room with greens on Christmas-eve.
"I shall," said Harry.
"And I," said Maggie.
"I don't know about it," said Bessie; "maybe Santa Claus will think we are greedy, if we hang up our stockings when we are going to have a Christmas-tree."
"No, pet," said Harry; "he's a generous old fellow, and, besides, he'll know that we don't expect much in our stockings. We'll leave a little note, telling him we only do it for the fun of the thing."
"He'll scorch his old legs coming down the chimney to-night," laughed Fred; "there's a roaring big fire in mamma's grate."
"Oh, he's used to it," said Harry; "he minds neither heat nor cold."
"Maggie," said Fred, "if you hear a scrambling and pawing in mamma's chimney to-night, you can jump up and take a look at him through the crack of the door."
"We wouldn't be so mean," answered Maggie. "If he meant us to see him, he would come in the day-time when we are up; and if he knew we did it, perhaps he'd just go whisking up the chimney, and not leave us a single thing."