There was a chuckle from behind the neighbouring hedge, and, as the
Philosopher returned to his sanctum to write a paper on the "Spectra of
Meteorites," a small boy stepped cautiously out into the road, and
hurried down the lane.
"Ooray!" muttered the small boy to himself; "the old gent don't know my
name. What did he say about 'Crismas'?" And he vanished into space.