A thorough search revealed no Pa. On a new calendar, which lay on the table, were scribbled these words: “The gun is for the boy. The rest is for all of you. Yours truly, Santy Claus.”
An hour later supper was over; even hungry little C’listie could hold no more ham, and sat nodding and hugging a wonderful doll. Henry Clay and Lizzie Isabel had put the donkeys into the stable, and given them an extra allowance of grain and carrots. With shining eyes and heart too happy for words, Henry Clay sat examining his treasure, the bright, new gun. The girls were rapturously sorting their new ribbons, hoods, and books. Mrs. Culberson, busy storing yet unopened packages beneath the bed, said to the girls:
“I did ’low for you girls to sleep under the blazin’-star quilt, being it’s Christmas time, but I ain’t going to let you. It ain’t never been used, and I’m going to keep that quilt for Santa Claus. I’ll see him some time.”
[27] This story was first printed in “Youth’s Companion,” December 10, 1914. Reprinted by special permission. All rights reserved by the author.
Transcriber’s Notes:
Variations in spelling and hyphenation are retained.
Perceived typographical errors have been changed.