“Well,” said Bunny Face, “there’s me, of course, and Agnes, then the dump children, and the janitor and—and you.”
“All right,” said Madam Iceberg; “and I want you to help me make plans. Will you?”
“Sure,” chirped Bunny Face. “Toys?”
“Yes, indeed, toys,” she said. “But where do we get them?”
“Why, old Mrs. Hampton’s Toy Shop, of course,” said Bunny Face.
So the lady bent forward and said, “Mrs. Hampton’s Toy Shop, driver.”
When old Mrs. Hampton saw them and knew who it was, she took off her thick glasses, then put them back on again quickly. But she didn’t say “Run along,” today, but “What can I do for you?”
And before Madam Iceberg could answer Mrs. Hampton, Bunny Face grabbed her skirt and, pulling her along, pointed to a picture of Santa Claus coming out of a funny little house under some tall pine trees.
“That’s it,” he said; “Santa Claus’ house.”
“So it is,” said Madam Iceberg; “Sure enough; that’s the house that you were hunting, isn’t it?”