"I'M BIJAH."
"I'm Bijah."
There was a scared look in the black eyes, for they had never seen anything quite like Grandfather Vrooman when he pushed his face out between the branches.
The trees all looked as if they had beards of snow, but none had a longer or whiter one than Liph's grandfather.
"Bijah," said he, "did you know Christmas was coming?"
"Be here to-morrow," piped the dot in gray, "and we're going to have turkey."
"You don't say! Just you wait until I cut a tree down, and I'll come out and hear all about it."
"Is your name Santa Claus?"
"Did you hear that, Liph? The little chap's miles from home, and I don't believe he knows it."