“I wasn’t playing tricks,” she sobbed, “indeed—indeed I wasn’t. But it doesn’t seem to work, though I tried my best. Can’t—can’t you ‘think’ yourself a new pair of eyes?”
“I can only think toys,” replied Santa Claus in a hopeless tone, turning away. He stumbled a wee bit and reached out his hand to save himself from falling. As he did so he touched the Wishing Post. “I wish they couldn’t arrest Billy,” he said. Now, he didn’t realize he was touching the Wishing Post, but, of course, the Post didn’t know that, and it went to work to give him his wish. The gates of the prison flew open, there was a noise like breaking chains and rending bars, then Billy came out of the jail as if he were propelled by some invisible force. A half dozen policemen followed him, but every time they touched him they turned somersaults or flew up in the air and fell about, till finally they grew frightened, ran inside the jail, and locked the doors, leaving Billy standing staring about amazed. But he soon saw Santa Claus and Maida and started over to them.
The Gates of the Prison Flew Open
“Oh Billy—Billy boy,” cried Maida, as he drew near, “come quick, quick.” So Billy ran. Maida rattled on almost breathless, with mingled hope and fear—“I tried to wish his eyes back and I can’t. You try.” So Billy tried, and in a moment Santa Claus had his eyes back and could see as well as ever. How he did hug Maida and then Billy, and what a happy trio they were.
“And now,” said Maida, “that the Wishing Post is at work again, I’m going to be a young lady.” So she made her wish. “Has it happened?” she inquired.
“No,” said Billy.
“That’s funny,” she observed, “my first wish came true in a jiffy.”
“Have you had one?” asked Billy. She told him “yes.”