It was a magnificent ring, so Georgie thought.It had a big green stone in the center and the rest was gold, or what looked like gold.Santa seemed to think well of it, too, for he held it to the lamplight and moved it back and forth, watching the shine of the green stone.Then he put the ring down, tore a corner from the piece of tissue paper, rummaged the stump of a pencil out of his rags, and, humping himself over the table, seemed to be writing.
It took him a long time and was plainly hard work, for he groaned occasionally and kept putting the point of the pencil into his mouth.Georgie's curiosity grew stronger each second.Unconscious of what he was doing, he parted the fringe still more and thrust out his head for a better view.The top of his head struck the edge of the sofa with a dull thump.
Santa Claus jumped as if someone had stuck a pin into him and turned.That portion of his face not covered by the scraggly beard was as white as mud and dirt would permit.
"Who--who be YOU?" he demanded in a frightened whisper.
Georgie was white and frightened also, but he manfully crept out from beneath the sofa.
"Who be you?" repeated Santa.
"I--I'm Georgie," stammered the boy.
"Georgie! Georgie who?"
"Georgie Hobbs.The--the boy that lives here.""Lives--lives HERE?"
"Yes." It seemed strange that the person reputed to know all the children in the world did not recognize him at sight.
Apparently he did not, however, for after an instant of silent and shaky inspection he said:
"You mean to say you live here--in this house? Who do you live with?""Mrs.Barnes, her that owns the house."
Santa gasped audibly."You--you live with HER?" he demanded.
"Good Lord! She--she ain't married again, is she?""Married! No--no, sir, she ain't married.""Then--then--See here, boy; what's your name--your whole name?""George Ellis Hobbs.I'm Mr.Hobbs's boy, up to South Middleboro, you know.I'm down here stayin' with Aunt Thankful.She--""Sshh! sshh! Don't talk so loud.So you're Mr.Hobbs's boy, eh?
What--eh? Oh, yes, yes.You're ma was--was Sarah Cahoon, wa'n't she?""Yes, sir.I--I hope you won't be cross because I hid under the sofa.They said you were coming, but I wasn't sure, and I--Ithought I'd hide and see if you did.Please--" the tears rushed to Georgie's eyes at the dreadful thought--"please don't be cross and go away without leaving me anything.I'll never do so again;honest, I won't."
Santa seemed to have heard only the first part of this plea for forgiveness.He put a hand to his forehead.
"They said I was comin'!" he repeated."They said-- WHO said so?""Why, everybody.Aunt Thankful and Emily and Imogene and Cap'n Bangs and Mr.Parker and--all of 'em.They knew you was comin'
tonight, but I--"
"They knew it! Boy, are you crazy?"
Georgie shook his head.
"No, sir." Then, as Santa Claus sat staring blankly with open mouth and fingers plucking nervously at what seemed to be the only button on his coat, he added, "Please, sir, did you bring the air-gun?"
"Hey?"
"Did you bring the air-gun I wanted? They said you probably wouldn't, but I do want it like everything.I won't shoot the hens, honest I won't."Santa Claus picked at the button.
"Say, boy," he asked, slowly."Who am I?"Georgie was surprised.
"Why, Santa Claus," he replied."You are Santa Claus, ain't you?""Eh? San...Oh, yes, yes! I'm Santa Claus, that's who I be."He seemed relieved, but still anxious.After fidgeting a moment he added, "Well, I cal'late I'll have to be goin' now."Georgie turned pale.
"But--but where are the presents?" he wailed."I--I thought you wasn't goin' to be cross with me.I'm awfully sorry I stayed up to watch for you.I won't ever do it again.PLEASE don't go away and not leave me any presents.Please, Mr.Santa Claus!"Santa started."Sshh!" he commanded in an agonized whisper."Hush up! Somebody'll hear....Eh? What's that?"The front stairs creaked ominously.Georgie did not answer; he made a headlong dive for his hiding-place beneath the sofa.Santa seemed to be even more alarmed than the youngster.He glanced wildly about the room and, as another creak came from the stairs, darted into the dining-room.
For a minute or more nothing happened.Then the door leading to the front hall, the door which had been standing ajar, opened cautiously and Mrs.Barnes' head protruded beyond its edge.She looked about the room; then she entered.Emily Howes followed.
Both ladies wore wrappers now, and Thankful's hand clutched an umbrella, the only weapon available, which she had snatched from the hall rack as she passed it.She advanced to the center table.
"Who's here?" she demanded firmly."Who lit this lamp? Georgie!
Georgie Hobbs, we know you're here somewhere, for we heard you.
Show yourself this instant."
Silence--then Emily seized her cousin's arm and pointed.A small bare foot protruded from beneath the sofa fringe.Thankful marched to the sofa and, stooping, grasped the ankle above the foot.
"Georgie Hobbs," she ordered, "come out from under this sofa."Georgie came, partly of his own volition, partly because of the persuasive tug at his ankle.
"Now, then," ordered Thankful; "what are you doin' down here?
Answer me."
Georgie did not answer.He marked a circle on the floor with his toe.
"What are you doin' down here?" repeated Mrs.Barnes."Did you light that lamp?""No'm," replied Georgie.
"Of course he didn't, Auntie," whispered Emily."There was someone here with him.I heard them talking.""Who did light it?"
Georgie marked another circle."Santa Claus," he muttered faintly.
Thankful stared, first at the boy and then at her cousin.
"Mercy on us!" she exclaimed."The child's gone crazy.Christmas has struck to his head!"But Emily's fears were not concerning her small brother's sanity.
"Hush, Auntie," she whispered."Hush! He was talking to someone.
