"I found your invitation, Mr. Christmas."
"Bless me! did you now? Ah!" He stroked his beard thoughtfully for a moment and remained silent. Eva looked about her in amazement.
"Those are all secrets!" he observed after a time. Father Christmas included with a sweep of the arm the toys which were everywhere about—hanging from the ceiling, lying about on the tables and sofas, standing as ornaments on the mantelpiece, filling the shelves of the bookcases, peeping from behind the glass cabinets—toys wherever one looked.
He arose, and taking her by the hand, led her round to enjoy the pretty sight; and paying no attention whatever to the sullen little girl in the corner, he asked Eva if she would like to see around his domain. "Oh yes, yes," she cried. She quite appreciated the special honour that was being done her.
"They'll be coming in here soon to pack," he added. "I'm going to leave all these secrets myself at their destinations."
There was a tremendous bustle going on at the rear of the premises, where a whole army of packers, carriers, postmen, and porters were hurrying about letting down toys from the loft, packing them, labelling them to places far and wide; loading them on huge vans which came rumbling in and out of the courtyard with cracking of whips, and parting shouts of "Good luck!"
Superintending the arrangements, walking to and fro, was the very ancient man. He was so alert, and always on the spot where wanted, yet Eva was thinking his age must at least be two hundred, when Father Christmas said kindly: "My dear, this is my father—he is known as Father Time, and you have known him without having really met him face to face before."
"I didn't recognise him, and I didn't know he was your father, sir," she whispered.
"Why, yes. Don't you know that my full name is Christmas Time?"
"Of course it is," she exclaimed with a laugh.