“Who be you?” repeated Santa.
“I—I'm Georgie,” stammered the boy.
“Georgie! Georgie who?”
“Georgie Hobbs. The—the boy that lives here.”
“Lives—lives HERE?”
“Yes.” It seemed strange that the person reputed to know all the children in the world did not recognize him at sight.
Apparently he did not, however, for after an instant of silent and shaky inspection he said:
“You mean to say you live here—in this house? Who do you live with?”
“Mrs. Barnes, her that owns the house.”
Santa gasped audibly. “You—you live with HER?” he demanded. “Good Lord! She—she ain't married again, is she?”