And sure enough, in a moment the little widow sighed and raised her eyes. Then you should have been there to see her. Her poor little face grew quite pink with joy, she gasped, and her breath came fast with bewilderment. She rubbed her eyes with her thin hands; she couldn’t believe it was not a dream. Then she gave a little cry, just between a sob and a laugh, and fell on her knees before the basket.
She poked the fat turkey and felt deftly between all the other things until she knew exactly what was in the basket. “We’ll have a beautiful Christmas dinner, after all,” she said, “even a turkey!” She didn’t take a thing out of the stockings—just peeped in and felt softly down the long knobby legs. “I’ll leave them for the children just as he packed them, the dear saint!” she murmured to herself. She went over to the children and kissed each one softly; they smiled and wriggled cosily in their sleep. Then she looked over again at the wonderful hearthside—it seemed to Mr. Grouch that she looked straight at him, though of course she couldn’t see him as both he and Santa Claus had on caps of darkness. Her face was shining with a wonderful light of love and joy. Her eyes beamed like two stars, and the room seemed to be filled with a kind of glory. “It’s the blessed spirit of Christmas,” she whispered brokenly, “come to cheer my fatherless little ones and me.” Then she knelt down by her little bed, and it was plain that she was praying.
Santa Claus nodded triumphantly at Mr. Grouch, shaking off another big tear, and Mr. Grouch returned the look tremulously. He drew a large red handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped both eyes before speaking.
“Couldn’t we take off our caps of darkness,” he finally whispered, “and wish her a Merry Christmas?”
“A Merry Nonsense!” said Santa Claus, laughing until his fat sides shook; “no—we’re not allowed to be seen. ’Sh-h! it’s time to go up the chimney.”
Up they went into the dark night where the reindeer were waiting for them. Into the sleigh they jumped and off they started, and, as the wind whistled by them, Mr. Grouch said: “Santa Claus, I feel I owe you an apology. When I saw her face—”
Santa Claus interrupted him: “If you’re ready to admit you were wrong, go out to-morrow and wish every one a Merry Christmas.”
Far, far away they went, out over the rolling sea till they came to a ship which had had to sail out from port just three days before Christmas. Down into the forecastle they went, where the sailors were sadly thinking of their homes, and spread cheer around until each man wished the other a Merry Christmas.
All the long night they sped over the great world leaving joy behind them. They visited the children’s hospitals, where little boys and girls were lying awake, weeping for their mothers, and they quieted them and touched them with joy, and they slept, forgetful of their pain and sorrow. They visited sinful men in prison and softened their hearts, and they stopped at the homes of the rich and bade them remember their poorer brothers.
It was a night to dream of, such as no one else but Santa Claus can ever know again, but at last the pink glow of morning showed in the eastern sky.