The little dog growled a protest as she suddenly got up from the floor. Eva counted the money in her money-box. "I've five shillings all but three farthings. I'm sure that is nothing like enough!" she mused. "It must cost at least a million sterling pounds!" Tears came into her eyes, but they flowed down on to a smile, as she thought of some one who always managed to do kind deeds and who might help her. Father Christmas! Eva thought of asking no less a person than Father Christmas himself to advise her. But how to find him and get a nice quiet chat with him was the difficulty. That he would come to her on Christmas Eve she had no doubt, as he never forgot her; but she had only managed to be awake and see him once, a long time ago, and then she but got a glimpse of him, for he rushed out of her room as though in a terrible hurry.
Dot's little mistress slept badly that night; she was racking her brain as to how she could manage to remain awake so as to see Father Christmas when he came, and then how she could coax him to stay for a talk—for she knew quite well how busy he must be when he was on his rounds.
The following afternoon, during a general rummage that was going on to find tiny candles and coloured glass balls that were over from last year's Christmas tree, Eva picked up a scrap of printed paper, which had come out of an old cracker. She took it upstairs to her favourite spot on the hearthrug, and read it aloud to Dot:—
"Father Christmas sends this note
From out his mansion by the moat,
To all who live on land and sea,
To honour Christmas Day with glee—
Inviting them to pass his way,
With glee to honour Christmas Day."
Eva flushed with excitement. "Why, it's a message from him!" she cried. "It's some kind of invitation!" and she gave Dot such a squeeze of delight that the little creature squeaked shrilly, scurried off, and laid low under the table.
She thought and puzzled and pondered over the lines she had just read. At last she grasped their meaning. "Of course! How simple, after all!" she concluded. "He lives at some moated house, and I must go to him, not wait for him to come to me. He always comes down the chimney—that's the way I must go up!"
Eva didn't hesitate a moment. The opportunity had come for which she longed. She ran downstairs into the large, old-fashioned hall, which was overheated as usual, by the hot-air pipes, for the huge chimney-place was too much of a curiosity ever to be used. Here, she felt sure, was the starting-point of her adventure.
Luckily no one was about. It was windy when she looked up the great chimney, so she took her long, fair hair, and made it into a loose plait in order to keep it from blowing about her face. Then she prepared to start and secure the first footing.
Eva had never been up a chimney before, and when she began climbing she was quite surprised to find how nice and clean it was, with steps, and all white tiles. She toiled up, and up, and could see blue sky and fleeting white clouds above. After a time she stopped to rest in a little recess in the chimney side. When she started climbing again, the blue sky faded away, twilight came on, and in this very, very long chimney the light became quite dim.
Very soon, however, she felt with a little thrill of pleasure the keen air all around her head and shoulders, and she knew she had come to the top. Fortunately there was a ladder—already placed for Father Christmas to mount—and down that she went, looking below all the time so as not to make a false step. It was a very, very long ladder indeed, and Eva began to think she would have to go on stepping down for ever, when at last she found herself on the ground again—in a country field with hoar frost stiffening the blades of grass, across which she ran straight ahead as hard as ever she could go.