Such an animated chorus of “I woulds” arose then that Santa Claus put his hands over his ears.
“Please don’t all speak at once next time,” he said. “Now, head of the class, tell me which were made first, cats or kittens? What, don’t know? Next, then. You don’t know either? nor you? Why, who does know?”
All the class were giggling and nudging each other in great amusement, and at the last question one girl called out “Cats!” and sank back upon a chair in a paroxysm of half-nervous laughter.
“Wrong,” said Santa Claus, severely. “You know every cat has to be a kitten first. Try again.”
“Kittens!” screamed the whole class in concert.
“O, what an ill-taught class!” said Santa Claus, looking around slyly at Mrs. Ashley. “I should think you’d know there couldn’t be kittens without cats for mothers.”
“Which of’em was made first then?” said the boldest member of the class; but the others pounced on her and called out, “For shame, ’Lizy Maria!” so vigorously that she was completely crushed.
“You must ask your teacher,” said Santa Claus, politely, beginning to unload his pockets and hand out blue, scarlet, and brown mittens—a pair for each girl. “And as you have such strange ideas of cats and kittens, here are some articles to refresh your memories about them;” and by some dexterous gymnastics he freed himself from the large sack or pannier that ornamented his back and poured its load of muffs upon the floor. There was one for each girl, and they were quickly picked up and appropriated at the word of command.
Then there was a general distribution of the useful gifts upon the table and of those upon the tree, which were prettier if less useful, being little books, work-baskets, photograph frames, and other trifles, such as girls without pocket-money prize.
There were some merry games then in which Katie and her friends took part, and then the twenty happy visitors took their gifts home with beaming faces and grateful hearts.