"Well, what's the result?" queried the voice on the roof.
"'Nothing,' as the boy said when he was asked what two plus one minus
three amounted to. I can't decide. It will or it won't, and that's all
there is about it."
"Can't we try it on him?" asked the voice up the chimney.
"No," returned Santa Claus. "That wouldn't prove anything; but we might
try him on it. Shall I send him up?"
"Yes," came the voice from above, much to Jimmieboy's delight, for he
was quite curious to see what was going on up on the roof, and who it
was that owned the other voice.
In a moment Jimmieboy found himself in Santa Claus's arms, cuddled up to
the warm fur coat the dear old gentleman wore, in which position he was
carried up through the chimney flue to the roof. Then Jimmieboy peeped
out between his half-opened eyelids, and saw, much to his surprise, that
instead of there being only one Santa Claus, there were two of them.
"Oh dear!" he said in astonishment; "I didn't know there were two of
you."
Both the Santas jumped as if some one had let off a cannon cracker under
their very noses.
"Well, I declare!" said the one that had carried Jimmieboy up through
the chimney. "We're discovered. Here I've been in this business whole
centuries, and I've never been discovered before."
"That's so," assented the other. "We know now how America must have felt
when Columbus came sailing in. What'll we do about it?"
"We'll have to take him into partnership, I guess," rejoined the first.
"It'll never do in this world not to. Would you like to be one of our
concern, Jimmieboy?"
"Oh, indeed I would," said Jimmieboy.
"Well, I say we let him help us this time anyhow," said the roof Santa
Claus. "You're so fat, I'm afraid you can't get down some of these small
chimneys, and Jimmieboy is just about the right size."
"Good scheme," said the other; "but he isn't dressed for it, you know."
"He can get a nice black soot down in the factory chimney," said the
roof Santa Claus, with a wink.
"That's so; and as the factory fires are always going, it will be a nice
warm soot. What do you say, Jimmieboy?" said the other.
"It's lovely," replied the boy. "But how did there come to be two of
you?"
"There had to be," said the first Santa Claus Jimmieboy had seen. "The
world is growing so fast that my work has nearly doubled in the last
twenty years, so I had to get an assistant, and he did so well, I took
him into partnership. He's my brother."
"And is his name Santa Claus, too?" asked Jimmieboy.
"Oh no, indeed. His name is Marmaduke. We call him Marmy for short, and
I can tell you what it is, Jimmieboy,
"He is as fine a fellow
As ever you did spy;
He's quite as sweet and mellow,
Though not so fat as I."
"And that's a recommendation that any man has a right to be proud of,"
said Marmy Claus, patting himself on the back to show how proud he felt.
"But, Santa, we must be off. It would not do for the new firm of Santa,
Marmy, and Jimmie Claus to begin business by being late. We've got to
leave toys in eighteen flat-houses, forty-two hotels, and an orphan
asylum yet."
"That's a fact," said Santa, jumping into the sleigh and grasping the
reins. "Just help Jimmieboy in here, Marmy, and we'll be off. We can
leave his things here on our way back."
[Illustration: JIMMIEBOY AND THE BROTHERS CLAUS.]
Then, before he knew how it happened, Jimmieboy found himself wrapped up
warmly in a great fur coat, with a seal-skin cap on his head, and the
dearest, warmest ear-tabs over his ears, sitting in the middle of the
sleigh between the two huge, jolly-faced, members of the Claus family.
The long lash of the whip snapped in the frosty air, at the sound of
which the reindeer sprang forward and dragged the toy-laden cutter off
on its aerial flight.
At the start Santa drove, and Marmy prepared the toys for the first
little boy they were to visit, handing Jimmieboy a lot of sugar-plums,
to keep him from getting hungry, before he began.
"This is a poor sick little fellow we are going to see first," he said.
"He wanted a set of choo-choo cars, but we can't give them to him
because the only set we have is for you, Jimmieboy. Your application
came in before his did. I hope he won't be disappointed, though I am
afraid he will be. A fish-pond isn't half so much fun as a set of
choo-choo cars."
"That's so," said Jimmieboy. "But, Mr. Marmy, perhaps, if it's going to
make him feel real bad not to get them--maybe--perhaps you might let him
have the cars. I don't want them too much." This wasn't quite true, but
Jimmieboy, somehow or other, didn't like to think of the little sick boy
waking up on Christmas day and not finding what he wanted. "You know, I
have one engine and a coal car left of my old set, and I guess maybe,
perhaps, I can make them do," he added.
Marmy gave the little fellow an affectionate squeeze, and said: "Well,
if you really feel that way, maybe we had better leave the cars there.
Eh, Santa?"
"Maybe, perhaps," said Santa.
And it so happened; and although he could not tell exactly why,
Jimmieboy felt happier after leaving the cars at the little sick boy's
house than he ever thought he could be.
"Now, Jimmieboy," said Santa, as Marmy took the reins and they drove off
again, "while Marmy and I are attending to the hotels and flat-houses,
we want you to take that brown bag and go down the chimney of the orphan
asylum, and leave one toy for each little child there. There are about
a hundred little orphans to be provided for."
"What's orphans?" asked Jimmieboy.
"Orphans? Why, they are poor little boys and girls without any papas and
mammas, and they all have to live together in one big house. You'll see
'em fast asleep in their little white cots when you get down the
chimney, and you must be very careful not to wake them up."
"I'll try not to," said Jimmieboy, softly, a lump growing up in his
throat as he thought of the poor children who had no parents. "And I'll
make sure they all get something, too."
"That's right," said Marmy. "And here's where they live. You take the
bag now, and we'll let you down easy, and when we get through, we'll
come back for you."
So Jimmieboy shouldered the bag full of toys, and was lowered through
the chimney into the room where the orphans were sleeping. He was
surprised to find how light the bag was, and he was almost afraid there
would not be enough toys to go around; but there were, as he found out
in a moment. There were more than enough by at least a dozen of the most
beautiful toys he had ever seen--just the very things he would most have
liked to have himself.
"I just guess I'll give 'em one of these things apiece, and keep the
extra ones, and maybe perhaps they'll be for me," he said.
[Illustration: JIMMIEBOY IN THE ORPHAN ASYLUM.]
So he arranged the toys quietly under the stockings that hung at the
foot of the little white beds, stuffing the stockings themselves with
candies and apples and raisins and other delicious things to eat, and
then sat down by the fire-place to await the return of Santa Claus and
Santa's brother Marmy. As he sat there he looked around the dimly
lighted room, and saw the poor thin white faces of the little sleeping
orphans, and his heart stirred with pity for their sad condition. Then
he looked at the bag again, and saw the extra dozen toys that were so
pleasing to him, and he wondered if it would make the orphans happier
next morning if they should wake and find them there, too. At first he
wasn't sure but that the orphans had enough; and then he thought of his
own hamper full of dolls, and dogs, and tin soldiers, and cars, and
blocks, at home, and he tried to imagine how much fun he could get out
of a single toy, and he couldn't quite bring himself to believe that he
could get much.
"One toy is great fun for an hour," he said to himself, "but for a year,
dear me! I guess I won't keep them, after all. I'll just put them in the
middle of the room, so that they'll find them in the morning, and maybe
perhaps---- Hello!" he added, as he took the extra toys out of the bag;
"they were for me, after all. They've got my name on 'em. Oh, dear!
isn't it love---- I don't know, though. Seems to me I'd better leave
them here, even if they are for me. I can get along without them because
I have a papa to play with, and he's more fun than any toy I ever had;
and mamma's better'n any doll baby or choo-choo car I ever saw. Yes, I
will leave them."
And the little fellow was true to his purpose. He emptied the bag to the
very last toy, and then, hearing the tinkling bells of Santa's sleigh on
the roof again, he ran to the chimney, and was hauled up by his two new
friends to the roof.
"Why, you've left everything except the bag!" cried Marmy, as Jimmieboy
climbed into the sleigh.
"Yes," said Jimmieboy, with a little sigh; "everything."
"But the bag had all your things in it, and we haven't a toy or a
sugar-plum left for you," said Santa.
"Never mind," said Jimmieboy. "I don't care much. I've had this ride
with you, and--al--together I'm--pret--ty well--satis--fi----"
Here the little assistant to the Claus brothers, lulled by the jingling
of the bells, fell asleep.
It was morning when he waked again--Christmas morning--and as he opened
his eyes he found himself back in his little crib, pondering over the
mysterious experiences of the night. His heart was strangely light and
happy even for him, especially when he thought of the little orphan
children, and tried to imagine their happiness on waking and finding the
extra toys--his toys--in addition to their own; and as he thought about
it, his eyes wandered to the chimney-place, and an unexpected sight met
his gaze, for there stood the much-wished-for velocipede, and grouped
around it on the floor were a beautiful set of choo-choo cars exactly
like those he had left with the sick boy, and a duplicate of every one
of the extra toys he had left at the asylum for the orphans.
"They must have been playing a joke on me," he cried, in delighted
tones, as he sprang out of bed and rushed over to where the toys lay. "I
do believe they left them here while I was in the asylum.
The--dear--old--things!"
And then Jimmieboy was able to measure the delight of the orphan
children and the little sufferer by comparing it with his own; and when
he went to bed that night, he whispered in his mamma's ear that he
didn't know for sure, but he thought that if the orphans only had a papa
and a mamma like his, they would certainly be the happiest little
children in all the world.