"I did so!" retorted Jimmie, squatting on the floor and shooting a glass agate at a bunch of miggles across the room. "I swatted Petey Halloran on the eye on'y yesterday for sayin' they wasn't no such person."
"And you did well, my son," said Hetherington. "The man or boy that says there isn't any Santa Claus is a—is a—well, never you mind, but he is one just the same."
And bidding his little friends good night, Hetherington, with the chauffeur close behind him, left them to the joys of the moment, with a cheerier dawn than they had known for many weary days to follow.
V
"Good night, sir," said the chauffeur, as Hetherington paid him off and added a good-sized tip into the bargain. "I didn't useter believe in Santa Claus, sir, but I do now."
"So do I," said Hetherington, as he bade the other good night and lightly mounted the steps to his house.
A MERRY CHRISTMAS PIE
Take a quart of pure Good Will,
Flavor well with Sympathy;
Boil it on the fire till
It is full of bubbling Glee.
Season with a dash of Cheer,
Mixed with Love and Tenderness;
Cool off in an atmosphere
That is mostly Kindliness.
Stick a dozen raisins in
Made of grapes from Laughter's vine,
And such fruits as you may win
In a purely Jocund line.
Make a batter from the cream
Of Good Spirits running high,
And you'll have a perfect dream
Of a Merry Christmas pie!