The old man set down his lamp and tiptoed back to the fireplace. He took out the toys one by one, and placed them on the floor. He filled the poor little stocking with candy; the first package of which came near betraying him by falling directly through a large hole in the heel. Luckily he caught it before it reached the floor, and squeezed in a good-sized rubber ball to replace it.
Last of all he took up the sheep, with a sigh of relief at his success in depositing all his gifts in the room without disturbing the small sleeper.
But alas for human calculations! In his excitement he gave that dreadful sheep an unlucky squeeze, and without the slightest warning it gave utterance to another prolonged baa-a-a! even louder than before.
The child opened her eyes wide and sat up in bed. There stood, in front of a new and cavernous fireplace in the wall, an old man with shaggy coat and cap, and flowing white beard, his stooping back sprinkled with snow, with a lamb in his arms, and surrounded with such a glory of toys as she had never dreamed of in her little starved life.
One moment only she gazed; then leaped from her bed and sprang into his arms, crying: “O Santa Claus! Santa Claus! Have you come! Oh, take me away with you, do, do!”
At the child’s first cry of “Santa Claus!” the old man stood stupefied, shaking his head and muttering “Jonathan R.”; but when she came flying to him, he caught her up in his arms, wrapping his great fur coat about her and holding them close to his heart—God’s little lamb and the woolly one—without a word.
Before he could fairly collect his wits, he heard that heavy, irregular footfall coming up the stairs.
He had only one thought—to save the child. Backing hastily into the fireplace he closed and bolted the door behind him, groped his way up the stone steps, and sat down in front of his own fire, breathless, with his new-found treasure still in his arms. The faint sound of a cry came up from the room below, but whether it was of terror, or delight at finding such extraordinary personal property miraculously substituted for the late occupant, he could not tell.
The light of the fire, on which Claus had thrown fresh fuel, shone upon the child face upraised to his.
“What is your name, little one?” he asked in tones he hardly recognized as his own.