"Oh—"
"He ought to come here, Pussy. Why shouldn't he come here? Why should he go up-town and up-town, and take all the things to children who have more than they want?"
Milly was philosophic. "St. Nicholas is fathers and mothers—"
But Pussy was not so sure. "Do you think he'd come—if we did? Do you really and truly think he would?"
"I think he might—"
The candle set in the window made a fine show from the street. They all went out to look at it. Coming in, they sat around the stove together.
Pussy drew her chair very close to Ostrander. She laid her hand on his knee. It was a little hand with short, fat fingers. In spite of lean living, Pussy had managed to keep fat. She was adorably dimpled.
Ostrander, looking down at the fat little hand, began: "Once upon a time—there was a doll—a Fluffy Ruffles doll, in a rosy gown—"
"Oh!" Pussy beat the small, fat hand upon his knee.
"And pink slippers—and it traveled miles to find some one to—love it. And at last it said to St. Nicholas, 'Oh, dear St. Nick, I want to find a little girl who hasn't any doll—'"