rotty sat on the nursery floor, gazing sadly at a broken jumping-jack, with only one leg, no arms, and not much of a head to speak of. It was weeks since Christmas, and all the toys Santa Claus had stuffed into Trotty's little striped stocking were cracked and broken, and now this jumping-jack, the last and dearest of all, had gone to pieces too.
"I sink it's time Santa Tlaus tomed aden," remarked Trotty at last.
"Oh no," said nurse, who was holding baby by the window; "he is busy now, making toys to give the good children next Christmas."
"Where does he live?" asked Trotty.
"In a house set in a garden of Christmas trees," began nurse; but just then somebody called her from the room.
"I b'lieve I'll try and find dat house," thought Master Four-year-old, "and ask Santa Tlaus to div me anodder jumping-jack."
To think, with Trotty, was to do, and five minutes later he had on his beloved new rubber boots, and was running down the road as fast as his little fat legs would carry him, with a big apple in his hand to eat on the way.
He came first to a pond where a duck was swimming. "Quack, quack," said the duck; which meant, "What a nice red apple! I wish I had some."