"I have found your boy wandering in the street. He is safe, and I will bring him home right away."
III
Fifteen minutes later, there might have been seen the strange spectacle of a foot-sore Santa Claus leading a sleepy little boy up Fifth Avenue to a cross-street, which shall be nameless. The boy vainly endeavored to persuade his companion to "come in and meet mama."
"No, Billee," the old man replied sadly, "I must hurry back. You see, kiddie, this is my busy day. Besides, I never go into a house except through the chimney. I wouldn't know how to behave, going in at a front door."
But it was not to be as Santa Claus willed, for Little Billee's papa, and his mama, and his brothers and sisters, and the butler and the housemaids, and two or three policemen, were waiting at the front door when they arrived.
"Aha!" said one of the police, seizing Santa Claus roughly by the arm. "We've landed you, all right! Where have you been with this boy?"
"You let him alone!" cried Little Billee, with more courage than he had ever expected to show in the presence of a policeman. "He's a friend of mine."
"That's right, officer," said Little Billee's father; "let him alone—I haven't entered any complaint against this man."
"But you want to look out for these fellers, Mr. Harrison," returned the officer. "First thing you know they'll be makin' a trade of this sort of thing."
"I'm no grafter!" retorted Santa Claus indignantly. "I found the little chap wandering along the street, and, as soon as I was able to locate where he lived, I brought him home. That's all there is to it."
"He knew where I lived all along," laughed Little Billee, "only he pretended he didn't, just to see if I knew."
"You see, sir," said the officer, "it won't do him any harm to let him cool his heels—"
"It is far better that he should warm them, officer," said Mr. Harrison kindly. "And he can do that here. Come in, my man," he added, turning to Santa Claus with a grateful smile. "Just for a minute anyhow. Mrs. Harrison will wish to thank you for bringing our boy back to us. We have had a terrible afternoon."
"That's all right, sir," said Santa Claus modestly. "It wasn't anything, sir. I didn't really find him—it was him as found me, sir. He took me for the real thing, I guess."
Nevertheless, Santa Claus, led by Little Billee's persistent father, went into the house. Now that the boy could see him in the full glare of many electric lights, his furs did not seem the most gorgeous things in the world. When the flapping front of his red jacket flew open, the child was surprised to see how ragged was the thin gray coat it covered; and as for the good old saint's comfortable stomach—strange to say, it was not!
"I—I wish you all a merry Christmas," faltered Santa Claus; "but I really must be going, sir—"
"Nonsense!" cried Mr. Harrison. "Not until you have got rid of this chill, and—"
"I can't stay, sir," said Santa. "I'll lose my job if I do."
"Well, what if you do? I'll give you a better one," said the banker.
"I can't—I can't!" faltered the man. "I—I—I've got a Little Billee of my own at home waitin' for me, sir. If I hadn't," he added fiercely, "do you suppose I'd be doin' this?" He pointed at the painted boards, and shuddered. "It's him as has kept me from—from the river!" he muttered hoarsely; and then this dispenser of happiness to so many millions of people all the world over sank into a chair, and, covering his face with his hands, wept like a child.
"I guess Santa Claus is tired, papa," said Little Billee, snuggling up closely to the old fellow and taking hold of his hand sympathetically. "He's been walkin' a lot to-day."
"Yes, my son," said Mr. Harrison gravely. "These are very busy times for Santa Claus, and I guess that, as he still has a hard night ahead of him, James had better ring up Henry and tell him to bring the car around right away, so that we may take him back—to his little boy. We'll have to lend him a fur coat to keep the wind off, too, for it is a bitter night."
"Oh," said Little Billee, "I haven't told you about these boards he wears. He has 'em to keep the wind off, and they're fine, papa!" Little Billee pointed to the two sign-boards which Santa Claus had leaned against the wall. "He says he uses 'em on cold nights," the lad went on. "They have writing on 'em, too. Do you know what it says?"
"Yes," said Mr. Harrison, glancing at the boards. "It says 'If You Want a Good Christmas Dinner for a Quarter, Go to Smithers's Café.'"
Little Billee roared with laughter.
"Papa's trying to fool me, just as you did when you pretended not to know where I lived, Santa Claus," he said, looking up into the old fellow's face, his own countenance brimming over with mirth. "You mustn't think he can't read, though," the lad added hastily. "He's only joking."
"Oh, no, indeed, I shouldn't have thought that," replied Santa Claus, smiling through his tears.
"I've been joking, have I?" said Little Billee's papa. "Well, then, Mr. Billiam, suppose you inform me what it says on those boards."
"'Merry Christmas to Everybody,'" said Little Billee proudly. "I couldn't read it myself, but he told me what it said. He has it printed there so that if he misses saying it to anybody, they'll know he means it just the same."
"By Jove, Mr. Santa Claus," cried Little Billee's papa, grasping the old man warmly by the hand, "I owe you ten million apologies! I haven't believed in you for many a long year; but now, sir, I take it all back. You do exist, and, by the great horn spoon, you are the real thing!"
IV
Little Billee had the satisfaction of acting as host to Santa Claus at a good, luscious dinner, which Santa Claus must have enjoyed very much, because, when explaining why he was so hungry, it came out that the poor old chap had been so busy all day that he had not had time to get any lunch—no, not even one of those good dinners at Smithers's café, to which Little Billee's father had jokingly referred. And after dinner Henry came with the automobile, and, bidding everybody good night, Santa Claus and Little Billee's papa went out of the house together.
Christmas morning dawned, and Little Billee awoke from wonderful dreams of rich gifts, and of extraordinary adventures with his new-found friend, to find the reality quite as splendid as the dream things. Later, what was his delight when a small boy, not much older than himself—a pale, thin, but playful little fellow—arrived at the house to spend the day with him, bringing with him a letter from Santa Claus himself! This was what the letter said:
Dear Little Billee:—You must not tell anybody except your papa and your mama, but the little boy who brings you this letter is my little boy, and I am going to let you have him for a playfellow for Christmas Day. Treat him kindly for his papa's sake, and if you think his papa is worth loving tell him so. Do not forget me, Little Billee. I shall see you often in the future, but I doubt if you will see me. I am not going to return to Twenty-Third Street again, but shall continue my work in the Land of Yule, in the Palace of Good-Will, whose beautiful windows look out upon the homes of all good children.
Good-by, Little Billee, and the happiest of happy Christmases to you and all of yours.
Affectionately,
Santa Claus.
When
