David, roused suddenly, rubbed his eyes. Then, spying the stocking, he wakened thoroughly, and asked, “Say! Is—is it Christmas?”
Scott laughed, and glanced at his watch.
“It will be, in twelve minutes. Come here, sonny.”
He drew the boy onto his knee, and went on quietly: “The stores were closed, David, when I reached the village. I couldn’t buy you a Christmas gift, you see. But I thought if we gave you a real mother, and—and a father——”
“Oh, Scott!”
It was a cry of rapture from Nancy. She had, of course, suspected the ending to his story, but not until that moment had she let herself really believe it. Then, seeing the child’s bewilderment, she explained, “He means, dear, that you’re our boy now—for always.”
David looked up, his brown eyes big with wonder.
“And I needn’t go back to Hawkins’s? Not ever?”
“Not ever,” Scott promised, while his throat tightened at the relief in the boy’s voice.
“And I’ll have folks, same as the other kids?”