Marjories New Friend | Page 9

having our
regular Christmas in the house; and then twelve more outdoors, skating
or something; and then twelve more--"
"Eating," suggested his father, glancing at King's plate. "Well, since we
can't have seventy-two hours of it, we must cram all the fun we can into
twelve. Who's for a run out of doors before we have our Christmas
tree?" The three older children agreed to this, and with Mr. Maynard
and Uncle Steve they went out for a brisk walk.
"Wish we could snowball," said King, as they returned, and stood for a
few moments on the verandah. "It's cold enough, but there no sign of
snow."
"Pooh, you don't have to have snow to play a game of snowballs!" said
his father. "Why didn't you say what you wanted sooner? You are such
a diffident boy! Wait a minute."
Mr. Maynard disappeared into the house, and returned with a large
paper bag filled with something, they did not know what.
"Come out on the lawn," he said, and soon they were all out on the
brown, dry, winter grass.
"Catch!" and then Mr. Maynard threw to one and another, some swift,
white balls. They were really white pop-corn balls, but at first they
looked like snowballs.
The children caught on at once, and soon two or three dozen balls were

whizzing from each to each, and they had the jolliest game! The balls
were too light to hurt if they hit them, yet solid enough to throw well.
To be sure, they broke to bits after many tosses, but the game lasted a
half hour, and then Mr. Maynard declared that it was tree time.
"Sounds like tea-time," said Kitty, as they trooped in.
"Sounds a whole lot better than that!" said King.
The tree was in the living-room. It had been brought in, and trimmed
after the children went to bed the night before. So they had had no
glimpse of it, and were now more than eager to see its glories.
"Are we all here?" asked Mr. Maynard, as he looked over the group in
the hall, awaiting the opening of the doors.
"All but Uncle Steve," said Marjorie. "Why doesn't he come?"
"We won't wait for him," said Mr. Maynard, and he gave a loud knock
on the double doors of the living-room.
Like magic the doors flew open, and waiting to receive them was Santa
Claus himself!
His jolly, smiling face was very red-cheeked, and his white hair and
beard streamed down over his red coat, which was of that belted
round-about shape that seems to be Santa Claus's. favorite fashion.
His red coat and trousers were trimmed with white fur and gold braid,
and his high boots were covered with splashes of white that looked like
snow. He wore a fur trimmed red cap, and big gold-rimmed spectacles.
The latter, with the very red cheeks and long white beard, so changed
Uncle Steve's appearance that at first no one seemed to recognize him.
But they knew in a moment, and Marjorie grasped one hand and Kitty
the other, as they cried out:
"Hello, Uncle Santa Claus! how did you get so snowy?"

"I came down from the arctic regions, my dears," said the smiling saint,
"and up there we have perpetual snow."
"It seems to be perpetual on your boots," observed King; "I'm sure it
won't melt off at all!"
"Yes, it's first-class snow," agreed Santa Claus, looking at his boots,
which were really splashed with white-wash. "And here's little Miss
Rosy Posy," he continued, picking up the baby, who, at first, was a
little shy of the strange-looking figure. "This is the very little girl I've
come to see, and she must pick something off the tree!"
Rosy Posy recognized Uncle Steve's voice now, and contentedly
nestled in his arms as he carried her to the tree. And such a tree as it
was!
It reached to the ceiling, and its top boughs had been cut off to get it in
the room at all.
The blinds had been closed, and the shades drawn, in order that the
illuminations of the tree might shine out brightly, and the gorgeous
sight quite took the children's breath away.
The big tree was in the end of the room, and not only did sparkling
tinsel rope deck the green branches, but its strands also reached out to
the wall on either side, so that the tree seemed to be caught in an
immense silver spider-web. Sparkling ornaments decked every limb
and twig, and shining among them were hundreds of tiny electric lights
of different colors.
Many beautiful presents hung on the tree, without wrappings of any
sort to hide their pretty effect, and many more gifts, tied in be-ribboned
papers, lay on the floor beneath.
Altogether, it looked