How would you like to meet Santa Claus face to face? How would you like
him to hold you on his knee and tell you all about everything? How
would you like him to show you all about, and let you see the wonderful
sleigh and pet the reindeers? Well then, you can just imagine the fun
Maida had.
“Do you know,” she said to him shyly, “I am really very glad I met you.
You see, Willie Porter, he’s ten, and he knows much more than I do, or
thinks he does,--well, he told me there wasn’t any Santa Claus. He hung
up his stocking last Christmas, then he stayed awake all night to see
if Santa Claus filled it. His papa and mama came into his room ever so
many times in the night, but you never came near.”
“Ah! I can explain that,” laughed Santa. “Willie Porter’s papa used to
have a fine big open chimney and a lovely fireplace. Then I used to
go there every Christmas. But now they’ve shut up the fireplace, so I
can’t get down the chimney, and they’ve put in steam heat. Does Willie
Porter think I can bring my gifts and crawl through a radiator?” And
Santa Claus laughed till he shook like a jelly.
“Ah, I see,” said Maida. “Well, as I have seen all the toys and had a
most splendid time I s’pose I must be going, for I am in a hurry to get
to the Wishing Post and grow up.” So she prepared to resume her journey
but Santa Claus wouldn’t hear of it. “You haven’t seen all the toys,”
he shouted. “The two best ones were just finished to-day. Come along
with me and we’ll take a look at them.”
So she went with him into a room she hadn’t seen before, but all she
could see was two boxes. One was very tall and stood on end, the other
was square, with green and yellow stripes on it.
[Illustration: Out Popped Jack-in-the-Box]
Maida began to peer about the square box with green and yellow stripes
on it, when, all of a sudden, she touched a little button. The lid of
the box flew open, and out popped the biggest Jack-in-the-Box she had
ever seen. He must have been made of springs inside, for he leaned this
way and that, and joggled up and down, till Maida thought he’d break
in two. He was dressed in a long coat or shirt with pleats in it, just
like the folding part of papa’s camera, and he looked very funny. “I
feel just like a concertina,” he remarked.
Maida ran to the other box, opened it, and out stepped a Candy Kid. He
was much taller than Maida, his arms and legs were made of stick candy,
his body was a large chocolate drop, and his head was a marshmallow.
Before Maida realized what she was doing she picked off one of his
fingers and ate it. The Candy Kid didn’t mind, but Santa Claus didn’t
like it at all. He told her not to do anything of the sort again, and
got some candy to make the Candy Kid another finger.
“Oh, you beautiful little dolly,” sighed Jack-in-the-Box looking at
Maida.
“She isn’t a dolly,” said the Candy Kid. “I believe Santa Claus made
her out of a charlotte russe,” for of course the Candy Kid thought
Santa Claus made everything out of some kind of sweetmeats.
But Jack-in-the-Box was too full of his thoughts to let the Candy Kid
stop him. He bobbed his poor little head, shook about in the box and
said: “Oh, I like you very much. I would kneel and tell you all about
it, only I have no knees. I would clasp you in my arms, only I have no
arms.”
“I like you too,” said Maida shyly, and she nestled up against him.
“You are very quaint. Oh, how your poor heart is beating.”
“That isn’t my heart,” replied Jack-in-the-Box, “that’s my mainspring.”
Suddenly a loud rattle came from somewhere near his chin. “There,” he
sighed, “a cog slipped.”
The Candy Kid had been listening, and he didn’t seem to like Maida
to notice Jack-in-the-Box so much, so he politely gave her his arm
and walked away with her. Jack-in-the-Box lost his temper at this
and threatened the Candy Kid with all sorts of dreadful things, when
suddenly there was a rattle; a jerk; and Jack-in-the-Box leaned over
limp and flat. “Oh, is he dead?” sobbed Maida. “No, only run down,”
chuckled Santa Claus who then wound him up. “He always runs down,” said
Santa, “just when he shouldn’t.”
“Oh, I like him so much,” laughed Maida, “but I should think you’d find
it awfully hard work to make them.” “Not a bit,” answered Santa Claus,
“I think of something to delight children, and presto--it is made.”
Jack-in-the-Box set up a howling, till they had to stop their ears.
“Think me some arms and legs,” he roared; “think me some arms and legs.”
“I have,” answered Santa Claus; and sure enough, there they were, two
funny little arms swinging stiffly about, and as he hopped out of the
box Maida saw he had two stiff little legs. Jack-in-the-Box tried to
walk but it was very hard for him.
“Don’t you see,” he inquired, “that I am very starchy. Think me some
ball bearings in the joints.” So Santa Claus did, and then he was all
right. Oh, they had a fine time, while Santa Claus left them all alone
to go and pack an order of toys for some little children in Bombay. But
just when the fun was at its height Maida heard a tremendous roar. She
turned around to see what made such a noise, and her hair stood on end
with fright, for there stood a great big white Polar Bear. The Candy
Kid climbed into his box. Maida flew wildly about the room and finally
shut herself in a cupboard, but poor Jack--just as he was about to make
his escape, he ran down. The bear slowly drew near Jack-in-the-Box and
Maida’s heart flew up in her mouth for she was afraid it would eat
him. But it didn’t. It wound him up. Then Jack-in-the-Box said “thank
you,” and the Bear bowed politely. The Candy Kid saw that the Bear
wasn’t hungry, so he came out of his box and tickled the Bear behind
the left ear, and the Bear liked it so well he began to hop about and
dance. The Candy Kid began to dance, then Jack-in-the-Box began to
dance, and they laughed and danced and jumped about till they reached
the door, and danced out of it; and the last Maida saw of the Candy
Kid and Jack-in-the-Box and the friendly Bear, they were dancing away,
together.