“It’s time to be getting home,” said Santa Claus. “We can be seen if we’re out when the day is dawning.”
In a moment they had landed safely on Mr. Grouch’s roof.
“Good-by,” said Santa Claus, as he politely helped his passenger to alight and to shake off the snow and start down the chimney, “and remember, you are never to say you don’t believe in Santa Claus again!”
“Never in all this world!” said Mr. Grouch, in heartfelt tones. “Long live the spirit of Christmas!” He took off his hat and bowed in an old-fashioned, ceremonious manner just before the reindeer leaped into the air and started in the direction of the North Pole.
Mr. Grouch must have slid down the chimney and gone to bed after that, but in the morning he had forgotten all about that part of the adventure.
When the sun was high, the old man-servant knocked at the door and reminded him that breakfast was waiting. Mr. Grouch woke with a start. “A Merry Christmas to you, Andrew,” he shouted.
The old servant ran almost all the way downstairs with never a word. He thought his master must be mad, for he had never heard him give that greeting before in all his thirty years of service.
******
On Christmas morning I went out to take some toys, to the crippled children’s hospital, and there, coming down the street, whom should I see but old Mr. Grouch, a gayly decorated little Christmas tree over his shoulder, the pockets of his greatcoat bulging with toys and candy, and behind him, trooping merrily along, an endless chain of boys and girls, each with a toy and a bag of candy.
I stood stock-still with surprise and waited for the procession to come up.