"And God bless Aura, and Jack, and——"
"And Grandfather Reoh," his mother prompted softly.
"And Grandfather Reoh—and mamita, and——" The boy ended with a rush—"and me too. Amen. Now where do I hang the stocking, mother?"
In a moment the little stocking dangled from a mantel over the fireplace.
"You are sure he will come?" the child asked anxiously again.
"It is certain, Loto—if you are asleep."
Loto kissed his mother and shook hands solemnly with the men—a grave, dignified little figure.
"Good night, Loto," said the Big Business Man.
"Good night, sir. Good night, my father—good night, mamita; I shall be asleep very soon." And with a last look at the stocking he ran out of the room.
"What a Christmas he will have," said the Banker, a little huskily.