. The long ago. oudly you thought it would awaken everyone in thehouse, you softly opened the door—poked your armthrough—felt around where the stocking ought to be,but with a great sinking in your heart when youdidnt find it the first time—and finally your chubbyfist clutched the misshapen, lumpy, bulging fabricthat proclaimed a generous Santa Claus. Yes, it was there! That was enough for the moment. A hurriedclimb back into the warm bed—and then intermi-nable years of waiting until your attuned ear caughtthe first sounds of grandmothers dressing in hernearby bedroom, and the first gleam of wi
. The long ago. oudly you thought it would awaken everyone in thehouse, you softly opened the door—poked your armthrough—felt around where the stocking ought to be,but with a great sinking in your heart when youdidnt find it the first time—and finally your chubbyfist clutched the misshapen, lumpy, bulging fabricthat proclaimed a generous Santa Claus. Yes, it was there! That was enough for the moment. A hurriedclimb back into the warm bed—and then intermi-nable years of waiting until your attuned ear caughtthe first sounds of grandmothers dressing in hernearby bedroom, and the first gleam of winter day-light permitted you to see the wondrous stocking andthe array of packages on the sofa. It was beyondhuman strength to refrain from just one look. Butalas! The sight of a dapple-grey rocking-horse withsilken mane and flowing tail was too much, and thdnext moment you were in the room with your armsaround his arched neck, while peals of unrestrainedjoy brought the whole family to the scene. Then it. was that mother gathered you into her lap, andwrapped her skirt about your bare legs, and heldyour trembling form tight in her arms until youpromised to get dressed if they would open just onepackage—the big one on the end of the sofa. Afterthat there was always just one more, mother,please! and by that time the base burner was warm-ing up and you were on the floor in the middle of thediscarded wrapping-paper, uncovering each wondrouspackage down to the very last—the very, very last—in the very toe of the stocking—the big round onethat you were sure was a real league ball but v/hichproved to be nothing but an orange! . . No Santa Claus? Huh! . . If there isnt any Santa Claus, what does he putall the sample toys in the stores for every Christmasso boys and girls can see what they want? If hedoesnt fill the stockings, who( does, Id like to folks say that father and mother do it—butsposin they do, its only to help Santa Claus some-times when hes late o
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookidlongago01wri, bookyear1916
