I
He was only a little bit of a chap, and so, when for the first time in
his life he came into close contact with the endless current of human
things, it was as hard for him to "stay put" as for some wayward little
atom of flotsam and jetsam to keep from tossing about in the surging
tides of the sea.
His mother had left him there in the big toy-shop, with instructions not
to move until she came back, while she went off to do some mysterious
errand. She thought, no doubt, that with so many beautiful things on
every side to delight his eye and hold his attention, strict obedience
to her commands would not be hard. But, alas, the good lady reckoned not
upon the magnetic power of attraction of all those lovely objects in
detail. She saw them only as a mass of wonders which, in all
probability, would so dazzle his vision as to leave him incapable of
movement; but Little Billee was not so indifferent as all that.
When a phonograph at the other end of the shop began to rattle off
melodious tunes and funny jokes, in spite of the instructions he had
received, off he pattered as fast as his little legs would carry him to
investigate. After that, forgetful of everything else, finding himself
caught in the constantly moving stream of Christmas shoppers, he was
borne along in the resistless current until he found himself at last out
upon the street--alone, free, and independent.
It was great fun, at first. By and by, however, the afternoon waned; the
sun, as if anxious to hurry along the dawn of Christmas Day, sank early
to bed; and the electric lights along the darkening highway began to pop
out here and there, like so many merry stars come down to earth to
celebrate the gladdest time of all the year. Little Billee began to grow
tired; and then he thought of his mama, and tried to find the shop where
he had promised to remain quiet until her return. Up and down the
street he wandered until his little legs grew weary; but there was no
sign of the shop, nor of the beloved face he was seeking.
Once again, and yet once again after that, did the little fellow
traverse that crowded highway, his tears getting harder and harder to
keep back, and then--joy of joys--whom should he see walking slowly
along the sidewalk but Santa Claus himself! The saint was strangely
decorated with two queer-looking boards, with big red letters on them,
hung over his back and chest; but there was still that same kindly,
gray-bearded face, the red cloak with the fur trimmings, and the same
dear old cap that the children's friend had always worn in the pictures
of him that Little Billee had seen.
[Illustration: He thought it very strange that Santa Claus's hand should
be so red and cold and rough. _Page_ 91.]
With a glad cry of happiness, Little Billee ran to meet the old fellow,
and put his hand gently into that of the saint. He thought it very
strange that Santa Claus's hand should be so red and cold and rough, and
so chapped; but he was not in any mood to be critical. He had been face
to face with a very disagreeable situation. Then, when things had seemed
blackest to him, everything had come right again; and he was too glad to
take more than passing notice of anything strange and odd.
Santa Claus, of course, would recognize him at once, and would know just
how to take him back to his mama at home--wherever that might be.
Little Billee had never thought to inquire just where home was. All he
knew was that it was a big gray stone house on a long street somewhere,
with a tall iron railing in front of it, not far from the park.
"Howdidoo, Mr. Santa Claus?" said Little Billee, as the other's hand
unconsciously tightened over his own.
"Why, howdidoo, kiddie?" replied the old fellow, glancing down at his
new-found friend, with surprise gleaming from his deep-set eyes. "Where
did you drop from?"
"Oh, I'm out," said Little Billee bravely. "My mama left me a little
while ago while she went off about something, and I guess I got
losted."
"Very likely," returned the old saint with a smile. "Little two-by-four
fellows are apt to get losted when they start in on their own hook,
specially days like these, with such crowds hustlin' around."
"But it's all right now," suggested Little Billee hopefully. "I'm found
again, ain't I?"
"Oh, yes, indeedy, you're found all right, kiddie," Santa Claus agreed.
"And pretty soon you'll take me home again, won't you?" said the child.
"Surest thing you know!" answered Santa Claus, looking down upon the
bright but tired little face with a comforting smile. "What might your
address be?"
"My what?" asked Little Billee.
"Your address," repeated Santa Claus. "Where do you live?"
The answer was a ringing peal of childish laughter.
"As if you didn't know that!" cried Little Billee, giggling.
"Ha, ha!" laughed Santa Claus. "Can't fool you, can I? It would be funny
if, after keeping an eye on you all these years since you was a babby, I
didn't know where you lived, eh?"
"Awful funny," agreed Little Billee. "But tell me, Mr. Santa Claus, what
sort of a boy do you think I have been?" he added with a shade of
anxiety in his voice.
"Pretty good--pretty good," Santa Claus answered, turning in his steps
and walking back again along the path he had just traveled--which Little
Billee thought was rather a strange thing to do. "You've got more white
marks than black ones--a good many more--a hundred and fifty times as
many, kiddie. Fact is, you're all right--'way up among the good boys;
though once or twice last summer, you know--"
"Yes, I know," said Little Billee meekly, "but I didn't mean to be
naughty."
"That's just what I said to the bookkeeper," said Santa Claus, "and so
we gave you a gray mark--half white and half black--that doesn't count
either way, for or against you."
"Thank you, sir," said Little Billee, much comforted.
"Don't mention it; you are very welcome, kiddie," said Santa Claus,
giving the youngster's hand a gentle squeeze.
"Why do you call me 'kiddie' when you know my name is Little Billee?"
asked the boy.
"Oh, that's what I call all good boys," explained Santa Claus. "You see,
we divide them up into two kinds--the good boys and the naughty
boys--and the good boys we call kiddies, and the naughty boys we call
caddies, and there you are."
Just then Little Billee noticed for the first time the square boards
that Santa Claus was wearing.
"What are you wearing those boards for, Mr. Santa Claus?" he asked.
If the lad had looked closely enough, he would have seen a very unhappy
look come into the old man's face; but there was nothing of it in his
answer.
"Oh, those are my new-fangled back-and-chest protectors, my lad," he
replied. "Sometimes we have bitter winds blowing at Christmas, and I
have to be ready for them. It wouldn't do for Santa Claus to come down
with the sneezes at Christmas-time, you know--no, sirree! This board in
front keeps the wind off my chest, and the one behind keeps me from
getting rheumatism in my back. They are a great protection against the
weather."
"I'll have to tell my papa about them," said Little Billee, much
impressed by the simplicity of this arrangement. "We have a glass board
on the front of our ortymobile to keep the wind off Henry--he's our
shuffer--but papa wears a fur coat, and sometimes he says the wind goes
right through that. He'll be glad to know about these boards."
"I shouldn't wonder," smiled Santa Claus. "They aren't very becoming,
but they are mighty useful. You might save up your pennies and give your
papa a pair like 'em for his next Christmas."
Santa Claus laughed as he spoke; but there was a catch in his voice
which Little Billee was too young to notice.
"You've got letters printed there," said the boy, peering around in
front of his companion at the lettering on the board. "What do they
spell? You know I haven't learned to read yet."
"And why should you know how to read at your age?" said Santa Claus.
"You're not more than--"
"Five last month," said Little Billee proudly. It was such a great age!
"My, as old as that?" cried Santa Claus. "Well, you are growing fast!
Why, it don't seem more than yesterday that you was a pink-cheeked
babby, and here you are big enough to be out alone! That's more than my
little boy is able to do."
Santa Claus shivered slightly, and Little Billee was surprised to see a
tear glistening in his eye.
"Why, have you got a little boy?" he asked.
"Yes, Little Billee," said the saint. "A poor white-faced little chap,
about a year older than you, who--well, never mind, kiddie--he's a
kiddie, too--let's talk about something else, or I'll have icicles in my
eyes."
"You didn't tell me what those letters on the boards spell," said Little
Billee.
"'Merry Christmas to Everybody!'" said Santa Claus. "I have the words
printed there so that everybody can see them; and if I miss wishing
anybody a merry Christmas, he'll know I meant it just the same."
"You're awful kind, aren't you?" said Little Billee, squeezing his
friend's hand affectionately. "It must make you very happy to be able to
be so kind to everybody!"