"Oh, yes, indeedy, you're found all right, kiddie," Santa Claus agreed.
"And pretty soon you'll take me home again, won't you?" said the child.
"Surest thing you know!" answered Santa Claus, looking down upon the bright but tired little face with a comforting smile. "What might your address be?"
"My what?" asked Little Billee.
"Your address," repeated Santa Claus. "Where do you live?"
The answer was a ringing peal of childish laughter.
"As if you didn't know that!" cried Little Billee, giggling.
"Ha, ha!" laughed Santa Claus. "Can't fool you, can I? It would be funny if, after keeping an eye on you all these years since you was a babby, I didn't know where you lived, eh?"
"Awful funny," agreed Little Billee. "But tell me, Mr. Santa Claus, what sort of a boy do you think I have been?" he added with a shade of anxiety in his voice.
"Pretty good—pretty good," Santa Claus answered, turning in his steps and walking back again along the path he had just traveled—which Little Billee thought was rather a strange thing to do. "You've got more white marks than black ones—a good many more—a hundred and fifty times as many, kiddie. Fact is, you're all right—'way up among the good boys; though once or twice last summer, you know—"