Mr. Kris Kringle | Page 4

nevah any wickedness on Chwistmas Eve."
"But if it is a robber he might take you away."
"Oh! wobbers steal girls, but they nevah, nevah steal boys, and you needn't go."
"But are you sure? Oh! do listen," she added. Both heard the creaking noise of footsteps in the dry snow.
[Illustration: "MR. KHWIS KWINGLE, ARE YOU THERE? OR IS YOU A WOBBER?"]
"I will look--I must look," cried Hugh, slipping from his bed. In a moment he had raised the sash and was looking out into the night. The sounds he had heard ceased. He could see no one. "He has gone, Alice." Then he cried, "Mr. Khwis Kwingle, are you there? or is you a wobber?" As he spoke a cloaked man came from behind a great pine and stood amid the thickly-fallen flakes.
"Why, that is Hugh," he said. "Hugh!"
"He does know my name," whispered the lad to the small counsellor now at his side.
"And, of course, I am Kris Kringle. And I have a bag full of presents. But come softly down and let me in, and don't make a noise or away I go; and bring Alice."
The girl was still in doubt, but her desire for the promised gifts was strong, and in the very blood of the boy was the spirit of daring adventure. There was a moment of whispered indecision, resulting in two bits of conclusive wisdom.
Said Alice, "If we go together, Hugh, and he takes one, the other can squeal. Oh! very loud like a bear--a big bear."
"And," said Hugh, "I will get my gweat gwandpapa's sword." And with this he got upon a chair and by the failing light of the nursery fire carefully took down from over the chimney the dress rapier which had figured at peaceful levees of other days. "Now," he said, "if you are afwaid I will go all alone myself."
"I am dreadfully afraid," said she, "but I will go, too." So she hastily slipped on a little white wrapper and he his well-worn brown velvet knickerbocker trousers. Neither had ever known a being they had reason to fear, and so, with beating hearts, but brave enough, they stole quietly out in their sweet innocence and hand in hand went down the dark staircase, still hearing faint noises as they felt their way. They crossed the great warm library and entered the hall, where, with much effort, they unlocked the door and lifted the old-fashioned bar which guarded it. The cold air swept in, and before them was a tall man in a cloak half white with snow. He said at once, "Oh! Hugh! Alice! Pleasant Christmas to you. Let us get in out of the cold; but carefully--carefully, no sound!" As he spoke he shut the door behind him. "Come," he said, and seeming to know the way, went before them into the library.
"Oh! I'm so frightened," said Alice to Hugh in a whisper. "I wish I was in bed."
Not so the boy. The man pushed away the ashes from the smouldering logs, and took from the wood basket a quantity of birch bark and great cones of the pine. As he cast them on the quick embers a fierce red blaze went up, and the room was all alight. And now he turned quickly, for Hugh, of a mind to settle the matter, was standing on guard between him and the door to the stairway, which they had left open when they came down. The man smiled as he saw the lad push his sister back and come a step or two forward. He made a pretty picture in his white shirt, brown knee-breeches, and little bare legs, the yellow locks about his shoulders, the rapier in his hand, alert and quite fearless.
[Illustration: HE MADE A PRETTY PICTURE--ALERT AND QUITE FEARLESS.]
"My sister thinks perhaps you are a wobber, sir; but I think you are Mr. Khwis Kwingle."
"Yes, I am Kris Kringle to-night, and you see I know your names--Alice, Hugh." His cloak fell from him, and he stood smiling, a handsome Chris. "Do not be afraid. Be sure I love little children. Come, let us talk a bit."
"It's all wite, Alice," said the boy. "I said he wasn't a wobber."
And they went hand in hand toward the fire, now a brilliant blaze. The man leaned heavily upon a chair back, his lips moving, a great stir of emotion shaking him as he gazed on the little ones. But he said again, quickly:
"Yes, yes, I'm Kris Kringle," and then, with much amusement, "and what do you mean to do with your sword, my little man?"
"It was to kill the wobber, sir; but you mustn't be afraid, because you're not a wobber."
"And he really won't hurt you," added Alice.
"Good gracious!" exclaimed Kris, smiling, "you're a gallant little gentleman. And you have been--are you