"Do you remember that ole tale 'bout Father Christmas, Joan?" he said at last.
She nodded.
"Well, s'pose you wanted somethin' very bad, an' you believed that ole tale and sent a bit of paper up the chimney 'bout what you wanted very bad and then you never got it, you'd feel kind of rotten, wouldn't you?"
She nodded again.
"I did one time," she said. "I sent a lovely list up the chimney and I never told anyone about it and I got lots of things for Christmas and not one of the things I'd written for!"
"Did you feel awful rotten?"
"Yes, I did. Awful."
"I say, Joan," importantly, "I've gotter secret."
"Do tell me, William!" she pleaded.
"Can't. It's a crorse-me-throat secret!"