“Oh no, he isn't mean. Just think how good he is! He comes to every boy and girl—”
“No, he don't.”
“Why yes, he does. To every good little boy and girl.”
“He never came to Patsy Leary that lived up on the lots in Middleboro. Patsy said he didn't; he said there wasn't any Santa Claus, Patsy did.”
“Hum! Perhaps Patsy wasn't good.”
“Gee! Yes, he was. He can play baseball better'n any boy I know. And he can lick any kid his size; he told me he could.”
This crushing proof of young Leary's goodness was a staggerer for Thankful. Before she could think of a reply Georgie asked another question.
“You say he'll come down the chimney?” he queried.
“Yes.”
“The livin'-room chimney?”