Little Billee had the satisfaction of acting as host to Santa Claus at a
good, luscious dinner, which Santa Claus must have enjoyed very much,
because, when explaining why he was so hungry, it came out that the poor
old chap had been so busy all day that he had not had time to get any
lunch--no, not even one of those good dinners at Smithers's cafe, to
which Little Billee's father had jokingly referred. And after dinner
Henry came with the automobile, and, bidding everybody good night, Santa
Claus and Little Billee's papa went out of the house together.
Christmas morning dawned, and Little Billee awoke from wonderful dreams
of rich gifts, and of extraordinary adventures with his new-found
friend, to find the reality quite as splendid as the dream things.
Later, what was his delight when a small boy, not much older than
himself--a pale, thin, but playful little fellow--arrived at the house
to spend the day with him, bringing with him a letter from Santa Claus
himself! This was what the letter said:
DEAR LITTLE BILLEE:--You must not tell anybody except your papa
and your mama, but the little boy who brings you this letter is
my little boy, and I am going to let you have him for a
playfellow for Christmas Day. Treat him kindly for his papa's
sake, and if you think his papa is worth loving tell him so. Do
not forget me, Little Billee. I shall see you often in the
future, but I doubt if you will see me. I am not going to return
to Twenty-Third Street again, but shall continue my work in the
Land of Yule, in the Palace of Good-Will, whose beautiful
windows look out upon the homes of all good children.
Good-by, Little Billee, and the happiest of happy Christmases to
you and all of yours.
Affectionately,
SANTA CLAUS.
When Little Billee's mama read this to him that Christmas morning, a
stray little tear ran down her cheek and fell upon Little Billee's
hand.
"Why, what are you crying for, mama?" he asked.
"With happiness, my dear little son," his mother answered. "I was afraid
yesterday that I might have lost my little boy forever, but now--"
"You have an extra one thrown in for Christmas, haven't you?" said
Little Billee, taking his new playmate by the hand. The visitor smiled
back at him with a smile so sweet that anybody might have guessed that
he was the son of Santa Claus.
As for the latter, Little Billee has not seen him again; but down at his
father's bank there is a new messenger, named John, who has a voice so
like Santa Claus's voice that whenever Little Billee goes down there in
the motor to ride home at night with his papa, he runs into the bank
and has a long talk with him, just for the pleasure of pretending that
it is Santa Claus he is talking to. Indeed, the voice is so like that
once a sudden and strange idea flashed across Little Billee's mind.
"Have you ever been on Twenty-Third Street, John?" he asked.
"Twenty-Third Street?" replied the messenger, scratching his head as if
very much puzzled. "What's that?"
"Why, it's a street," said Little Billee rather vaguely.
"Well, to tell you the truth, Billee," said John, "I've heard tell of
Twenty-Third Street, and they say it is a very beautiful and interesting
spot. But, you know, I don't get much chance to travel. I've been too
busy all my life to go abroad."
"Abroad!" roared Little Billee, grinning at John's utterly absurd
mistake. "Why, Twenty-Third Street ain't abroad! It's up-town--near--oh,
near--Twenty-Second Street."
"Really?" returned John, evidently tremendously surprised. "Well, well,
well! Who'd have thought that? Well, if that's the case, some time when
I get a week off I'll have to go and spend my vacation there!"
From which Little Billee concluded that his suspicion that John might be
Santa Claus in disguise was entirely without foundation in fact.