He did tell all and a most interesting narrative it proved to be. The little Eskimo girl’s story as he told it was this:
There was to have been a Christmas tree at the Cape. What was a Christmas tree? Oh, something quite wonderful! So bright it was that it shone like the sun. And on this bright tree there grew all manner of strange things. Little people? Yes, little people, no longer than a man’s foot, but all dressed in bright clothes. Could they talk? To be sure. Yes, and cry and close their eyes, and go for a walk. Someone apparently had done her best to give Kud-lucy a real notion of what a Christmas tree was like. Had she succeeded? You be the judge.
Yes, and there were to have been more things, Kud-lucy hurried on. Small seals that were not truly seals, and walrus and polar bears. Yes, and many things no Eskimo had ever seen before.
“But now—” little Kud-lucy’s voice had faltered, “now there is to be no Christmas tree, not any at all!” Why? Because the big boat had come too soon. All the wonderful things apparently were left behind.
At this instant apparently little Kud-lucy suddenly realized that she was talking in some strange, mysterious manner to her friend far away. The discovery frightened her and she had gone off the air.
As the story ended, Mary jumped to her feet exclaiming:
“Just think! To be Miss Santa Claus to a hundred Eskimo children! But then—” She sat down quite suddenly to stare out into the dark, cold night.
“Why not?” said Speed.
“It’s a long, long way.”
“No way is long any more, with an airplane,” he replied quietly.