“We must be off,” said Santa Claus; “we are already late; we must be going.”
Mr. Grouch noticed now for the first time a wonderful little sleigh drawn by eight reindeer harnessed in pairs together. In it lay Santa Claus’s great pack, bursting with toys, and candy, and all sorts of joy for the children. One or two switches which Mr. Grouch saw sticking out on the top gave him a sense of uneasiness. “Get in, my man, get in!” commanded Santa Claus, and they leaped into the sleigh. The reindeer pawed the snow and snorted; then Santa Claus gave them the word and away they went. Over the housetops and over the trees, on—on—like a wind through the heavens. The old man clutched his hat down close on his head and shook with fear as he saw the great city glide by beneath them. Past the great houses they went and never drew rein. “They’re rich there,” said Santa Claus; “they have more than they need. We won’t stop; they’re untrue to the Spirit of Christmas.”
After a time they came to a part of the town where the houses were all small and wretched-looking. “These are my boys and girls,” said Santa, as he drew up on the roof of a particularly sorry-looking little dwelling. The reindeer shook their great horns and their bells jingled. The old man looked doubtfully at Santa Claus and then at the little chimney.
“Can we get down?” he asked fearfully.
“It’s the size of their hearts, not the size of their chimneys, that makes the difference,” answered Santa Claus. “I’ll go first and you follow.”
He stepped in the chimney and down he went, and then Mr. Grouch stepped in and down he went, also. The fire was out, and they found themselves in a tiny little room all cold and wintry. Two little stockings were hanging by the hearth, long and lank and empty, and in a bed near by, two little children were sleeping. They were smiling happily as they slept, dreaming of Christmas morning. Before the empty fireplace a woman was sitting, dressed all in black. She was slight and small, and around her thin shoulders she had drawn a shawl to protect herself from the cold. Here there was no holly, no wreaths in the windows, nothing at all to suggest Christmas except the unfilled stockings. The little mother had her eyes fixed on the dead ashes, and her thoughts could not have been happy for tears were rolling down her cheeks. “Oh, the poor children!” she whispered to herself, with something very like a sob, “what will they do in the morning?” She hid her face in her hands and began to weep bitterly; and it was just at this juncture that Santa Claus and Mr. Grouch came down the chimney.
“Her husband died two months ago,” whispered Santa Claus to Mr. Grouch, “and she has nothing in the house for Christmas,—no toys, no Christmas turkey, no nuts and raisins, nothing at all to fill those hungry stockings.” A large tear rolled down his cheek. Mr. Grouch sniffed and looked uneasily at the sleeping children.
“Now,” said Santa Claus, “watch and see what happens.”
While the little widow sobbed on, he took one thing after another out of his wonderful pack—nuts, raisins, candy canes, a beautiful great doll with yellow curls and blue eyes that went to sleep, a little railway-train, a top, a small tea-set, a doll’s chair, and finally, several pieces of nice warm clothing. Then he proceeded to fill the stockings with remarkable speed. When they were finished, the doll was peeping out of one, and the little engine out of the other. Mr. Grouch thought it was all over; but no, Santa Claus reached far down into his pack once more and brought out a beautiful Christmas basket. The fat legs of a turkey were standing out amid cranberries, and sweet potatoes, and oranges, and apples, and every other sort of good thing you can imagine.
Santa Claus placed the basket under the stockings, and then poked Mr. Grouch in the ribs so hard that it made him jump. “Now,” said he, “watch; for she’ll be looking up.”