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It was the day before Christmas, and the hurrying busy crowd of happy people filled the Boston streets and shops. A very small atom in that crowd was Sandy Martin, but he carried a large share of the Christmas happiness, although his hands were mittenless and his pockets full of holes. How could one help being light-hearted and glad in the midst of all that joyous bustle and flurry? It made Sandy feel as if he were going to have a glorious big Christmas himself, and he quite forgot to sigh because he was not. He stood by the big toyshop window, flattening his little purple nose against the glass, and watching the people go in and out. He wondered what they were buying and what boy or girl was to be made glad with the contents of those mysterious parcels.
But by and by he began to grow cold, and the coldness set him to thinking; and as he walked along, up past the Common, he began to wonder, just a little, why it was that Santa Claus should have so much to do with all these people and so little to do with him. The puzzled look had not disappeared from his small, freckled face, when he looked across the street and could hardly believe his own eyes--for there was Santa Claus himself, walking through the Common!
Sandy stopped short, and stared and stared until his eyes couldn't open any wider. Yes, that was surely Santa Claus. He did not have his reindeer and sleigh, to be sure, for there was no snow; but nobody but Santa could own such a jolly face and long white beard and nice furry clothes and big boots. Then he had a good many toys about him, too; and he carried a great sign, with something in big letters on it, which told people that the rarest treasures for Christmas stockings were to be found at a certain big store on Washington Street.
But Sandy could not read and he did not bother with the letters. He just stared and stared.
Santa was evidently tired; for while Sandy was looking at him, the old saint paused in his walk and sat down on one of the benches.
"It is Santa Claus," said Sandy to himself. "I'm going over to talk with him, and I'll ask him why he doesn't come down our chimney, too."
No sooner said than done. Across the street Sandy hurried, and marching up to the old man, he said, in a friendly way, "How do you do, Mr. Santa Claus?"
Santa looked up, a little surprised, but smiled good-naturedly at the ragged urchin before him, and remarked affably, "Well, young man, how do you do? And what may be your name?"
I'm Sandy Martin, " was the prompt answer. And with that, Sandy Martin, waiting no further invitation, proceeded to pull himself up on the seat beside Mr. Santa Claus. "I've come over here to ask you a question," he began at once. "I want to know why you don't come to our house "Chris'mus; we've got jus' as good a chimney s any one, and there's an ole lightning rod beside it fer you to tie your reindeer to."
Santa seemed immensely pleased, and chuckled to himself.
"You see," said he to Sandy, "I have so many places to go to, it is very hard to find 'em all. Where do you live, any way?"
"Up in Gower Street, No. 65. I thought you might have forgotten.
"At this point Sandy became conscious that a third person was listening to the conversation. A tall, dark lady in deep mourning had come up to where the two were sitting, and stood near, waiting for a street-car. Her face was very pale and sad, and it quite surprised Sandy to think that any one could look so at Christmas-time, and before the very eyes of Santa Claus, too. As he stared up at her, the sadness was chased away for an instant by an amused smile. Sandy, who stood in awe of no one, smiled back at her, and said cheerfully, "Merry Christmas, ma'am."
The lady smiled, but sighed too.
Thank you, my dear," she said, in a sweet, sad voice. "I hope that you may have a merry Christmas, but the day cannot be a merry one for me."
Sandy was surprised again, and gazed in bewilderment from Santa to the lady.
"Why? Don't grown-up people have merry Christmases?" he asked.
"Sometimes," answered the lady sadly. "I thought," continued Sandy, "that it was even more fun for the grown-up people than for the children; 'cause I thought you all knew Santa Claus and had secrets with him. All the other people I've seen looked jolly and glad, an' I thought every one was happy 'cause they was all thinkin' how they'd surprise some other one."
A shadow fell across Sandy's little face, and the lady saw it.
"My dear little boy," she said, with something like tears in her voice, although her eyes were smiling again, "don't let me spoil your thought of Christmas happiness. You are right, and I have been wrong; every one should be happy at this blessed season, and I am going to have a secret with Santa Claus, and a merry Christmas, too."
Sandy looked happy again ,and began to slide off the seat.
"I've got t go home now, for it's getting dark," he said; "but I'm ever so glad I met you, Mr. Santa Claus, and I hope you'll find your way tonight all right. If you can, I wish you'd bring Maggie a doll with blue eyes, and Benny a sled, and mother a new shawl; and Mr. Santa Clause," he added in a loud whisper, "I hope you'll give that lady there something she likes and make her have a good time."
Then Sandy trudged away, and when he looked back he was delighted to see the sad lady and Santa talking earnestly together.
While they ate their supper that night, Sandy excited the whole family with his story of meeting Santa Claus. His mother, tired out with her day's work, sighed, and tried to persuade him that it was not really Santa Claus he had seen--in vain; before they went to bed, each child hung up a ragged stocking back of the kitchen stove.
Mrs. Martin looked at them, and then sank down in her chair and had a good cry. She had been sewing hard all day; poor soul; but the money she earned was no more than enough to keep a roof over their heads and procure food for the hungry little mouths--there was nothing to spare for Christmas stockings.
"Oh, what will they say in the morning," she wept, "when they find them empty! I can't bear it; no, I can't."
She looked about the room, and finally rose and took her shawl down from the peg.
"It's no use," she said, "I can't have them disappointed; I'll go out and pawn this and get a few things to put in them stockings."
She walked across the room and opened the door, but she did not go out, for someone was standing there.
"How do you do, ma'am?" he said, walking into the room. "I a Santa Claus, and as I couldn't very well get down the chimney I took the liberty of coming in at the door. I've a few things here for the little folks, and I promised your boy I'd come; I see he is ready for me."
With that, Santa Claus went to work, and Mrs. Martin dropped into her chair and uttered never a word; she felt as if she were dreaming. Had the myths of her childhood come back again? Was there really a Santa Claus, and had Sandy met him that afternoon? Surely it could be no one else who stood there before her; and had not this bluff, kindly old man with his own lips declared his identity?
Mrs. Martin sat perfectly dazed, and watched him as he crammed full the ragged stockings, twined a wreath of evergreen here and there and piled up a number of packages and a big basket on the table. Then, before she could utter a word, he had disappeared with a "Merry Christmas," leaving her to wonder if she had not indeed awakened from a dream.
Before light, next morning, great was the joyful excitement and noise at 65 Gower Street; and this only settled into momentary awe when mother told the children that she herself had seen Santa Claus fill the stockings!
"But I thought you said there wasn't a Santa Claus," said Sandy, reproachfully.
"Well, I didn't believe there was," answered his mother helplessly; "but if that wasn't Santa Claus I don't know who it was."
"Course it was Santa Claus!" exclaimed Maggie; "didn't Sandy tell him to bring me a doll with blue eyes?" (Sandy nodded solemnly.) "Well, and he did bring her, didn't he?--the pretty darling! See, ma, she's got lace-edged clothes clear through, and buttoned boots."
"And didn't Sandy tell him to bring me a sled?" broke in Benny. (Sandy nodded solemnly again.) "And ain't the sled right here? And didn't the snow come, too, last night? And ain't I going coasting on the Common this very day?" Saying which Benny flung himself upon the shiny sled and tried to coast across the kitchen floor.
As if these arguments were not enough, Sandy turned to his mother again.
"And didn't I ask him to bring you a new shawl?" he said.
Mrs. Martin laid her hand on the soft thick shawl which Maggie had spread across the rocking-chair and then she patted Sandy's shoulder gently.
"What did you tell him to bring to you?" she asked.
Sandy looked up in sudden surprise.
"Why, I never told him about me!" he exclaimed. "It was getting late, and I just remembered about the doll and the sled and the shawl. I forgot all about me; but now I'm sure it was Santa Claus, for he brought just the things I wanted."
"So he did!" said Maggie wonderingly. "There is the tool-chest, and the harmonica, and the big picture-book."
Benny had been peeping into the market-basket. "Whew!" he cried. "There's nuts and oranges and 'nanas and grapes; and there's red jelly and a turkey!"
"I see crackers and bread and 'taters," exclaimed Maggie from the other side of the basket. "Oh, mama! we can have a regular dinner, can't we!"
It is needless to tell of all the comfort and joy that happy Christmas brought to Sandy and his home. But his faith in Santa Claus is firm and sure and even Mrs. Marti half believes that the good old saint does somewhere exist, and was drawn down to their humble home by little Sandy's Christmas spirit.
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