On he went homeward to his great dreary house, and there he found a frugal supper laid out by the old man-servant. He ate without appetite and then went upstairs. Then, after stuffing cotton in his ears and closing both the windows and the shutters to keep out the music of the bells and Christmas crackers, he climbed into his large four-poster bed, and pulling his nightcap down over his head, he went fast asleep.
How long he slept, he never knew, but suddenly he awoke hearing a strange sound. “Plump!” It was over near the fireplace, and there was a great rush of falling soot and plaster.
Mr. Grouch sat up quickly, scratched a match, and lighted his bedside candle. He lifted it high and scanned the room, peering out over the bed-clothes like a strange gnome in his pointed nightcap. He stared at the fireplace, and there—what do you think he saw? He could scarcely believe his eyes—and yet, sure enough, it was Santa Claus, dressed all in ermine and scarlet velvet, red cheeks glowing from the cold, his white beard glistening with snowflakes. There he stood chuckling softly and rubbing his hands together, the jolliest possible twinkle in his kind blue eyes.
“A Merry Christmas to you, Mr. Grouch,” he said in a deep hearty voice.
Mr. Grouch trembled so that the candle wax dripped on his hand. “A Merry Christmas, Sir,” he said, his voice sounding queer and squeaky.
“Now, Mr. Grouch,” said Santa Claus, smiling broadly, “that doesn’t sound natural from you. Why don’t you say ‘A Merry Nonsense’? You don’t believe in Santa Claus, and I know it, and I’ve come here this evening to give you back your faith—as a Christmas present. Put that candle down; get out of bed and into your clothes while I count three. My reindeer will be tired waiting.”
Then you should have seen Mr. Grouch scramble. He popped his thin legs into his trousers and laced up his boots with shaking fingers; then he pulled on his greatcoat and wound his long knitted muffler round his neck just as Santa Claus said three!
“You’ve forgotten your hat,” Santa Claus reminded him, chuckling. And sure enough, there he stood, the funniest figure you can imagine, still with his pointed nightcap on his head. He tore off his cap and placed his old beaver in its stead just as Santa Claus gave him a great boost that sent him flying up the chimney. Santa followed close after, and Mr. Grouch could hear him puffing and panting, and digging his boots into the side of the chimney as he came up behind him.
On top of the house it was all singularly quiet and peaceful. There was snow everywhere, on all the roofs as far as the eye could reach, and above was the limitless heaven with the calm stars shining out.
Santa Claus stretched his arm toward the East. “It was there,” he said, “before I was born, that the wise men saw the Star of Bethlehem.” His voice was so full and deep that the old man trembled. He looked out over the great city and saw in a thousand homes the candles burning for Christmas. A group of singers, strolling by in the street, stopped and began to sing a Christmas carol. Suddenly the bells rang out from churches far and near. It was midnight, they were pealing the glad tidings.