“No'm,” replied Georgie.
“Of course he didn't, Auntie,” whispered Emily. “There was someone here with him. I heard them talking.”
“Who did light it?”
Georgie marked another circle. “Santa Claus,” he muttered faintly.
Thankful stared, first at the boy and then at her cousin.
“Mercy on us!” she exclaimed. “The child's gone crazy. Christmas has struck to his head!”
But Emily's fears were not concerning her small brother's sanity. “Hush, Auntie,” she whispered. “Hush! He was talking to someone. We both heard another voice. WHO did you say it was, Georgie?”
“Santa Claus. Oh, Emmie, please don't be mad. I—I wanted to see him so—and—and when he came I—I—”
“There, there, Georgie; don't cry, dear. We're not cross. You were talking to someone you thought was Santa. Where is he?”
“He WAS Santa Claus. He SAID he was. He went away when you came—into the dinin'-room.”