And they went hand in hand toward the fire, now a brilliant blaze. The man leaned heavily upon a chair back, his lips moving, a great stir of emotion shaking him as he gazed on the little ones. But he said again, quickly:
"Yes, yes, I'm Kris Kringle," and then, with much amusement, "and what do you mean to do with your sword, my little man?"
"It was to kill the wobber, sir; but you mustn't be afraid, because you're not a wobber."
"And he really won't hurt you," added Alice.
"Good gracious!" exclaimed Kris, smiling, "you're a gallant little gentleman. And you have been—are you always a good boy to—your mother?"
"I has been a vewy good boy." Then his conscience entered a protest, and he added: "for two whole days. I'll go and ask mamma to come and tell you."
"No, no," said Kris. "It is only children can see me. Old folks couldn't see me."
"My mother is vewy young."
"Oh! but not like a child; not like you."