"Who is he, Norah?" I questioned.
She threw up her arms in the air.
"And have I niver told you about him?" she cried. "The quare ould chap
that lives up in the chimney!"
"Up in the chimney, Norah! Isn't he hot?" I demanded, in astonishment.
"Faith, there's no fire could warm him," Norah answered, lowering her
voice mysteriously.
Then her finger went up in apparent alarm.
"Hush! He's listening! He wants to know which are the good byes and
gurrls. When Christmas morning comes the good ones will get prisents.
For he owns all the prisents in the world! And the bad ones will get
nought, barring switches!"
I crept a little closer to Norah, and took a firm hold on her apron. It
was very sudden news. Had I always been good?
"But the good childer," Norah went on, with a reassuring smile, "and you
are good, Rhoda, have only to ask for whativer they want at the parlor
fireplace!"
I could not keep away from the fireplace after that. Every time that I
went into the parlor I peeped up the black bricks, and though I never
saw anything but the blue sky far, far above, I felt quite sure that he
was there. I made little scenes in my mind of the things which I should
say to him, and the things which he would say to me, after he became
convinced of my goodness. In the meanwhile I was good, oh, so good! and
best of all in the parlor. Later, I meant to ask for the queen doll, and
the pretty book, and the little hat trimmed with the white feathers and
the beautiful brass pin. Even if he could not give me just those ones,
because they were promised, he might give me others. I felt that he
could manage it in some way, if he were pleased with me. It was nice to
know that he was partial to good girls.
Once I went so far as to speak his name.
"Mr. Santa Claus!" I called, politely, for it was best to be polite.
"Oh, please, Mr. Santa Claus!"
A big piece of soot dropped down over the burning wood right at my feet.
That was his way of showing that he heard! Then I was frightened, and
would have run away but for a sudden sound. Somebody was crying! It was
grandmother up in the corner of the sofa with the Bible on her knees.
She did not see me at all. She did not know that I was there. I put my
arms around her neck, and she looked up and talked to me quite as if I
were a grown person.
"I want him so badly, Rhoda!" she said.
"Who is it, grandma?" I whispered.
"My little boy, Rhoda. He went away and he never came back again. I was
not patient enough with him. Always be patient, my dear."
"Don't you cry, grandma," I said. "I'll get him back, dear grandma, if
you won't cry."
She looked at me for a moment as if she almost believed me. I nodded
confidently at her. I knew. There was a way, but only little Rhoda had
thought of it as yet. If Norah had only told me sooner about Santa
Claus!
After she had dried her eyes, and kissed me, and gone to her room, I put
my plan into execution. I told Santa Claus all about it up the black
bricks. He did not answer, but the soot fell softly, so I knew that he
heard and would remember. It was no longer a question of dolls or books
or even hats. I felt that the one thing which I wanted most in the world
was just for grandmother's little boy to come home.
I did not hang up my stocking on Christmas eve. The twins hung up
theirs,--two little podgy stockings side by side at the mantel-piece.
Even quite a small stocking will hold candy, and I have known times when
the very nicest present of all would be away down at the toe. My little
Susan Sunshine, my littlest doll, came in the toe. I found her after I
thought everything was out. I wondered whether Dick or Trixie would find
a little Susan Sunshine.
"Why don't sister hang up her stocking?" Dick asked, anxiously.
"Is she bad?" Trixie inquired.
"I'm not bad," I declared, hastily, from my bed in the next room.
"Why don't you hang up your stocking, dear?" mother questioned.
"I don't want anything," I answered, miserably.
Afterwards I heard her talking to my father.
"I don't know what to make of Rhoda," I heard her say. "She won't hang
up her stocking. I hope that she is not going to be sick. It would be
dreadful to have one of the children sick at Christmas time. Her head is
quite hot."