"Of course they do, if you don't see that they're pulled off," retorted Santa Claus. "You don't expect me to give you toys and look after 'em all at the same time, do you?"
"No," said Jimmieboy.
"Well, it's good you don't," said Santa Claus, turning a somersault backward. "It's werry good you don't, for should you had have you'd have been disappointed. But, I say, was that what you wanted, or were you after one of my new patent typewriters that you wind up? Don't keep me waiting all night——"
"I never heard of your new patent typewriters that you wind up," Jimmieboy answered.
"That isn't the question," interrupted Santa Claus nervously, "though I suppose it's the answer, for if you had heard of my windable writer it would have been the thing you wanted. It's a grand invention, that machine. You take a key, wind the thing up, having first loaded it with paper, and what do you suppose it does?"
"Writes?" asked Jimmieboy.
"Exactly," replied Santa Claus. "It writes stories and poems and jokes. There are five keys goes with each machine—one poetry key, one joke key, one fairy tale key, a story of adventure key, and a solemn Sunday school story key that writes morals and makes you wonder whether you're as good as you ought to be."
"Well," said Jimmieboy, "now that I know about that, that's what I want, though as a matter of fact I rang you up for a glass of ice water."