"Who's Santa Claus?" demanded Elvira, but nobody heard her, for the jingling sleigh bells suddenly paused, and in he popped, the old saint himself, right through the window!
Now, although Miss Mary Taylor was there, nobody thought to ask her where Mr. Hamilton Dyce was, except when Phronsie piped out, "I want him," and ran up to Miss Taylor, who blushed and looked prettier than ever. But after the presents had all been given out and Santa Claus had bowed and disappeared to get into his sleigh and drive off with his reindeer, Mr. Hamilton Dyce made his appearance in the midst of the festivities, wiping his forehead and looking very hot, but smiling all over his face.
At sight of him Phronsie dropped Grandpapa's hand, and ran up to him. "I wanted you," she said, "and you didn't come."
"But I'm here now, Phronsie," said Mr. Dyce, swinging her to his shoulder.
"Yes, you are here now," repeated Phronsie, folding her hands in great satisfaction, and surveying the company from her high perch. "But you didn't see Santa Claus," and she gave a little sigh.
"Oh, well, I saw him out there," Mr. Dyce bobbed his head toward the hall.
"Did you?" cried Phronsie, in great delight; "and wasn't he a nice Santa Claus?" She bent down to gaze into the face beneath her, whose cheek she patted.
"I'm glad you liked him," said Mr. Dyce, laughing.
"And did he get into his sleigh?" cried Phronsie, in great excitement. "I heard the bells. Oh, I should so very much like to see him once drive off."
"Oh, I didn't see him get into his sleigh, Phronsie," said Mr. Dyce.