“Well, after we got home, your grandmamma called me into her chamber to do something for her, and I left your papa looking out of the nursery window at the passing. I often left him alone with the door open, and he played nicely by himself. It took me quite a little time to do what your grandmamma wanted of me, and when I went back to the nursery, not a sign of your papa was to be seen. I thought perhaps he had slipped down to the kitchen, he was so fond of talking to Cook, so I didn’t feel anxious about him; but when I went down to the kitchen and found he was not there, I can tell you I was pretty well scared. I hunted through the house, but not a soul had seen him. The parlor girl said she had heard the front door open a little while before, but she didn’t notice who went out.
“All at once I thought of those children looking in at the candy store, that your father had felt so sorry for. So off I started for it, and I can tell you it didn’t take me very long to get there. Well, what do you think I saw?”
“I don’t know,” replied Sam, breathlessly; “what was it?”
“Well, there stood your papa without any hat or coat on, and with his little bank under one arm. He had unlocked it, and he was giving out the nickels to the children just as fast as he could take them out, bless his warm little heart! I never saw such a sight of children as there were about him; where they could come from in such a little time was a mystery; but there they were, crowding around him, and as fast as one got a nickel, off he would run, and I don’t doubt sent others back too.
“I can see your papa now just as plain as if it was yesterday. There he stood in his little black velvet suit, with his hair blowing every which way, and his eyes shining like stars, he was so happy.
“He didn’t seem at all surprised to see me, and called out, just as happy, ‘They can have Christmas presents now, Mary. They have all got some money, and they can buy just what they’ve a mind to.’
“‘What in the world shall I do without my gold watch and chain, and all the other nice presents you were going to give me?’ I says.
“He looks rather crestfallen for a minute, as if that side of the question hadn’t occurred to him before; then he says brightly,—
“‘You won’t mind waiting till next Christmas, will you, Mary? Papa will give me some money to buy something for you with, and these poor little children didn’t have any money at all.’”