"Fine!" laughed Santa Claus. "If you really were lost, it would be a great help to know that; but not being lost, as you ain't, why, of course, we can get along without it. It's queer you don't know your last name, though."
"I do, too, know my last name!" blurted Little Billee. "It's Billee. That's the last one they gave me, anyhow."
Santa Claus reflected for a moment, eying the child anxiously.
"I don't believe you even know your papa's name," he said.
"Yes, I do," said Little Billee indignantly. "His name is Mr. Harrison."
"Well, you are a smart little chap," cried Santa Claus gleefully. "You got it right the very first time, didn't you? I really didn't think you knew. But I don't believe you know where your papa keeps his bake-shop, where he makes all those nice cakes and cookies you eat."
Billee began to laugh again.
"You can't fool me, Mr. Santa Claus," he said. "I know my papa don't keep a bake-shop just as well as you do. My papa owns a bank."
"Splendid! Made of tin, I suppose, with a nice little hole at the top to drop pennies into?" said Santa Claus.
"No, it ain't, either!" retorted Little Billee. "It's made of stone, and has more than a million windows in it. I went down there with my mama to papa's office the other day, so I guess I ought to know."