“A Merry Christmas to you!” shouted Mr. Grouch, his face glowing from the crisp air, and all the children called out too, “A Merry Christmas!”
“We’re going to take this tree to some fatherless children,” he said: “would you like to come along with us?”
When I found my voice, I explained my errand and, quick as a wink, Mr. Grouch said they would stop at the hospital too, on the way to the other children. So on we went, all together, and everybody smiled and beamed and echoed our joy as soon as they saw us.
It must have been merely my imagination, but Mr. Grouch’s voice sounded to me just like Santa Claus’s as he wished everybody “Merry Christmas!”
He spent the whole day going round from one poor family to another, taking them toys and good cheer and leaving joy everywhere behind him.
Now the most curious part of the story is yet to come, for, would you believe it, Mr. Grouch has grown quite fat and jolly as time has gone by, until now, if you saw him, except for his black coat you would think he was Santa Claus. He has round red cheeks and a shining white beard, and his eyes are no longer cross and snapping; they beam upon every one the whole year round as if they were always saying, “I wish you a Merry Christmas!”
All of which goes to prove that Santa Claus is just as real as we think him, for each one of us can show by our own deeds and words the reality of the Spirit of Christmas.
******
I stopped.
“Is that all?” asked Alice.