“Santy.”

“Santy? What a funny name. Santy what?”

“Santy Claus.”

“Santy Claus?” cried the Man Mite. “You can’t be Santy Claus. He’s a man, and you’re just a little boy like I am.”

“Ho! you’re thinkin’ of my father,” answered the boy.

“Your father!” cried the Man Mite, more astonished than ever. Somehow, he had never thought of the possibility of Santy Claus being a father.

“Have you got a mother, too?” he asked, after a moment.

“Yep. Had one ever since I was born. Ain’t you?”

“Of course,” answered the Man Mite, “but I never heard of Mrs. Santy Claus.”

“Never heard of your mother neither,” answered Santy, Jr.