“Mamma! why doesn’t Santa Claus ever come down our chimney?”
“There is no such creature, Allison! You are too old to believe in that ridiculous fable.”
“But, Mamma, he came to Aunt Mary’s last year!” cried both children, in a breath.
“And we all hung up our stockings in the parlor!” added Nettie.
“And Aunt Mary let the fire go down on purpose, so that the old chap might not be scorched!” shouted Ally, excitedly. “We wanted her to have the chimney swept, but she said he wouldn’t mind a little dirt.”
“For you know—
‘His clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot!’”
quoted Nettie, “and yet he was in a good humor
—‘and filled all the stockings’”—
“‘Then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger alongside his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!’”