"The Unwiseman's Orphan Asylum," said Mollie, reading the sign. "Notice to Santa Claus: Dear Sir:—Too Hundred Orphans is Incarcerated Here. Please leave Toys Accordingly."
"Ho!" said Whistlebinkie. "How queer."
"You don't suppose he has really gone into the Orphan Asylum business?" said Mollie.
"I dono," said Whistlebinkie. "Let's wait till we see him before we decide."
So they ran on until they got to the Unwiseman's front door, upon which they knocked as hard as they knew how.
"Who's there?" came a reply in a mournful voice, from within.
"It's us," said Mollie.
"Who is Uss?" said the voice. "I know several Usses. Are you George W. Uss, the trolley-car conductor, or William Peters Uss, the poet? If you are the poet, I don't want to see you. I don't care for any poetry to-day. If you are the conductor, I've paid my fare."
"It's Mollie and Whistlebinkie," said Mollie.
"Oh—well, that's different. Come in and see your poor ruined old friend, who's got to go back to apples, whether he likes them or not," said the voice.