It had been a long and trying day to Jimmieboy, as December 24th usually
is to children of his age, who have great expectations, and are more or
less impatient to have them fulfilled. He had been positively cross at
supper-time because his father had said that Santa Claus had written to
say that a much-desired velocipede could not be got down through the
chimney, and that he thought Jimmieboy would have to wait until the
chimneys had been enlarged, or his papa had built a new house with more
commodious flues.
"I think it's just too bad," said Jimmieboy, as he climbed into bed an
hour later. "Just because those chimneys are small, I can't have a
philocipede, and I've been gooder than ever for two weeks, just to get
it."
Then, as his nurse extinguished the lamp and went into the adjoining
room to sew, Jimmieboy threw himself back upon his pillow and shed a
tear. The tear crept slowly down over his cheek, and was about to
disappear between his lips and go back again to where it had started
from, when a voice was heard over by the fire-place.
"Can you get it down?" it said.
Jimmieboy sat up and peered over toward the spot whence the voice came,
but could see nothing.
"No. The hind wheels won't go through the chimney-pot, and even if they
would, it wouldn't do any good. The front wheel is twice as big as the
hind ones," said another voice, this one apparently belonging to some
one on the roof. "Can't you get it in through the front door?"
"What do you take me for--an expressman?" cried the voice at the
fire-place. "I can't leave things that way. It wouldn't be the proper
thing. Can't you get a smaller size through?"
"Yes; but will it fit the boy?" said the voice on the roof.
"Lower your lantern down here and we'll see. He's asleep over here in a
brass bedstead," replied the other.
And then Jimmieboy saw a great red lantern appear in the fire-place, and
by its light he noticed a short, ruddy-faced, merry-eyed old gentleman,
with a snowy beard and a smile, tip-toeing across the room toward him.
To his delight he recognized him at once as Santa Claus; but he didn't
know whether Santa Claus would like to have him see him or not, so he
closed his eyes as tightly as he could, and pretended to be asleep.
"Humph!" ejaculated Santa Claus, as he leaned over Jimmieboy's bed, and
tried to get his measure by a glance. "He's almost a man--must be five
years old by this time. Pretty big for a small velocipede; still, I
don't know." Here he scratched his beard and sang:
"If he's too large for it, I think,
'Twill be too small for him,
Unless he can be got to shrink
Two inches on each limb."