“Married! No—no, sir, she ain't married.”
“Then—then—See here, boy; what's your name—your whole name?”
“George Ellis Hobbs. I'm Mr. Hobbs's boy, up to South Middleboro, you know. I'm down here stayin' with Aunt Thankful. She—”
“Sshh! sshh! Don't talk so loud. So you're Mr. Hobbs's boy, eh? What—eh? Oh, yes, yes. You're ma was—was Sarah Cahoon, wa'n't she?”
“Yes, sir. I—I hope you won't be cross because I hid under the sofa. They said you were coming, but I wasn't sure, and I—I thought I'd hide and see if you did. Please—” the tears rushed to Georgie's eyes at the dreadful thought—“please don't be cross and go away without leaving me anything. I'll never do so again; honest, I won't.”
Santa seemed to have heard only the first part of this plea for forgiveness. He put a hand to his forehead.
“They said I was comin'!” he repeated. “They said—WHO said so?”
“Why, everybody. Aunt Thankful and Emily and Imogene and Cap'n Bangs and Mr. Parker and—all of 'em. They knew you was comin' tonight, but I—”
“They knew it! Boy, are you crazy?”
Georgie shook his head.