Jakie's Christmas

Christmas was near. Pictures of laughing, fat, jolly, old Christmas Santa Claus filled the daily papers, filled the magazines. In all of the store-windows were beautiful Christmas decorations and full of toys.

In the pictures Santa Claus’ beard hung down from his chin as white as cotton, and his long white bushy hair peeped from under his cap.

Jakie, a happy, joyous, little country boy lived miles from town in a log-cabin in the backwoods with his Mamsy, as he called his grandmother. Just the two lived together as Jakie’s father and mother were dead, and his grandfather too. They lived in the very same log house which his father built, as a pioneer; he cleared away the wild woods when Alabama was new, and settled the land and built a farm home. All of the home-folks were dead; just Mamsy and little Jakie left. Mamsy owned a cow and some pigs. She raised turkeys and chickens to sell. But the foxes had crept out of the bushes and devoured the young turkeys; hawks had caught the young chickens and carried them away to eat. Mamsy had done her very level best but she was old and she was poor. Sorrowfully she had to tell Jakie not to look for Christmas Santa Claus,—not to hang up his stocking, that they were too poor this year.

It was a clear day, sunshiny and beautiful. Jakie was out in the hickory grove in front of their cabin, kicking the brown leaves that lay on the ground like a carpet, first with one foot then with the other. Every day he had gathered the fallen nuts from under the trees, but was hoping to find some still hiding under the leaves.

A country wagon came bumping and rumbling along the rough country road in front of Jakie’s house. Folks did not pass his home often. He stopped kicking the leaves to gaze at the passing wagon. A newspaper blew out of the wagon, fluttered around and around, by the wind, and fell to the ground in the middle of the road, without the farmer noticing or missing it. Jakie dashed out to the road, snatched the paper up, and raced after the farmer and his wagon, yelling as loud as his voice could, over the rattling, bumping noise of the wagon:

“Mister! Mister! Mister! Mister!”

The farmer heard him, grunted “waw” to his horse and looked backward. Jakie was following him with something in his hand. He waited until Jakie overtook him panting and out of breath and held the paper, above his head, as high as his short arm could reach, to the farmer. The farmer looked down at the paper a minute while Jakie explained, panting:

“Here’s your newspaper the wind blew out your wagon.”

The man answered:

“It’s nothing! It’s just a paper saying some store in town is giving away presents to children,—you can have it. I don’t want it.”

The farmer chuckled to his horse and drove on down the road, leaving Jakie standing still, in the middle of the road, staring at the paper in wonder. There was big, fat, jolly, old Christmas Santa Claus with a huge pack of toys on his back, with both hands beckoning to children to come to him and get a present. One outstretched hand held a toy-train, the other a very large doll. Little girls and big girls, little boys and big boys were racing, running, hurrying, scurrying to him. Nurses with babies in go-carts were running to him, and mamas with babies in their arms were running to him,—all to receive gifts. Jakie pointed his forefinger at them trying to count them but they were too many. Mamsy had told him they were too poor, not to look for Christmas Santa Claus at their house way out in the backwoods.

Here was Santa Claus in town giving things away to children, giving toy-trains to boys, and big dolls to girls.

His heart fluttered faster, joy and hope flashed into his eager eyes as he continued to gaze at the picture. He would run and show the picture to Mamsy and beg her to take him to town to Christmas Santa Claus and get a present too. His feet dashed back toward the house; he held the corner of the paper, which fluttered behind him by the wind like a kite-tail to a kite.

He yelled every step “Mamsy! Mamsy! Mamsy!”

She heard his excited yells and it scared her. She rushed to the door, to meet him. He held the paper up waving it over his head. He reached the door:

“Look Mamsy! here’s Christmas Santa Claus in town giving away things to all the children—take me to him and get one!”

He held the paper wide open with both hands for Mamsy to see for herself, what he said was true. Mamsy looked at it intently then shook her head in no, saying:

“We can’t go! We got nothing to ride and it’s too far to walk.”

Mamsy was grown up. She had forgotten how, as a little child, Christmas thrilled her. She had no way to ride to town, and no money to buy Christmas things and no way to take Jakie. Jakie did not beg nor argue with Mamsy to go. When she said no she meant it. It was useless. His hope sank in very keen disappointment. The eager look of joy vanished from his face. He sat down dolefully upon the front step, holding the paper open before his eyes to gaze at happy children racing with each other to get to Christmas Santa Claus. He wished he was one of them, but he could not go. Two big tears rolled down his cheeks and fell on the paper making two wet spots.

Two more big tears rolled down his cheeks and he wiped them off with his sleeve. The sun went down. The twilight grew too dim for him to see the picture. He arose and went inside. Mamsy was cooking their supper in the oven of the open fire-place. Out of Mamsy’s way to the left of the popping, blazing, cheery wood fire-light he spread his paper wide open on the floor. He stretched himself full length on the floor beside the open paper; his elbows on the floor and his chin resting in his uplifted open palms. The bright fire-light shone upon his face, a very, sober, wistful little face gazing at the children scampering, racing and running toward Christmas Santa Claus—wishing he was one of them. Mamsy called him to supper, he arose folded the paper like a boy folds one, cranksided, and laid it in his mother’s trunk, that was his own now, and in which he kept his “keeps.” He ate his bread and milk, and slipped off to bed, with his clothes on, without Mamsy’s noticing it. He shut his eyes very tight, but he did not fall asleep. He was arguing to himself in the darkness, for Mamsy had come to bed and was asleep, “Mamsy is got old feets, but my feets is new. She can’t walk to town, but I can! I is big enough to go by my own self and get me and Mamsy a present from Christmas Santa Claus.” His eyes closed; he fell asleep dreaming of going to see Santa Claus.

Next morning the room was dark, but the roosters were flapping their wings and crowing for the day break; crowing to folks to awaken them, and tell them the day was coming to get up and work, get up and be smart. Jakie’s eyes flew wide open. Instead of seeing Santa Claus, as in his happy dream, the room was dark,—and Mamsy was snoring. He was disappointed. In his sleep Santa Claus had given him a present, given him a toy-train, and he was the happiest little boy in the world, he thought. His disappointment made him argue again:

“I’m big enough to go to Christmas Santa Claus by my own self, and get me and Mamsy a present.” He could stand it no longer.

Slowly he thrust one bare-foot from under the cover, then the other foot, lowering them to the floor. He let himself downward upon his “all-fours” to the floor and crawled as softly as a cat to the back door of the cabin home. One hinge was off of the door and it sagged at the bottom, just a wide enough hole, for him to squeeze through, without awakening Mamsy. He cautiously eased himself through to the out-of-doors. He halted on the step. He bent his listening ear down to the gap; Mamsy was still snoring. He crawled down the steps, to the ground. He sneaked away, his heart beating very fast lest a broken twig and rustling leaves tell on him, and awaken Mamsy and she call him back. Joy urged him onward, unafraid, in the dark through the grove of hickory trees to the rough country road. The stars twinkled down upon a lonely little boy, bravely, trudging along the rough country road, ragged, bare-foot, alone, and afoot! His bare-feet trod on rough places and pebbles, but onward he hurried not seeming to mind them. He was too happy to know that he was hungry. This joyous, little, Christmas-tramp was bent on finding Christmas Santa Claus, to obtain a Christmas gift for himself and for Mamsy, and had slipped off without eating any breakfast. The dim light in the east told him the sun was coming up soon, so he could see better how to travel. He sat down on the side of the road to rest, a moment, hoping somebody might come along and let him ride, “give him a lift,” they call it in the country. He knew not how far he had come nor how far he had to go to get to Santa Claus; he was too happy to know or care! He arose and walked manfully on. He heard a faint-rumbling noise through the woods afar down the road behind him. He stopped. He listened! It was a wagon coming down the road toward him. He stood on the side of the road and waited for it. When it reached him he looked up timidly into the kind farmer’s face, driving the wagon and team, asking:

“Mister can I ride on your wood to town?”

The farmer was hauling oak wood to town to sell. He looked at Jakie, such a little fellow alone and wondered. He called out “climb in!”

Jakie eagerly stuck one bare-foot on a spoke of the wheel, then poked the other bare-foot upon a higher up spoke and scrambled and clutched at the wheel tire, to climb up into the wagon body. The man watched Jakie’s nimble pluck and bent downward holding his hand down to him to assist him. He invited him to sit beside him on the spring seat instead of riding on the sticks of rough wood.

“Where are you going little fellow?” the man asked Jakie after he twisted and fidgeted himself comfortably in his seat with his dirty bare-feet dangling downward, too short to reach the bottom of the wagon.

“I is going to town to find Christmas Santa Claus,” Jakie answered proudly, looking up into the kind man’s face for him to agree with him that he was big enough. But the man said:

“You are a very little boy to be going to town all by yourself.”

“I is big enouf!” Jakie insisted, bravely. Then he explained: “Mamsy’s feets is old, she can’t walk so far and we is got nothin’ to ride in.” His eyes glistered joyously!

“Christmas Santa Claus is in town giving way things to children. Mamsy say we is too poor for him to come to us house. I is going to hunt him and get me and Mamsy a present.”

The kind man looked at the holes in Jakie’s clothes, looked at his happy face, looked at his soiled bare-feet, without shoes, in winter-time, and he did not wonder that he wanted a Christmas present for himself and for Mamsy. He ran his hand down into his breeches pocket and drew out some change. With a merry twinkle in his eyes he said:

“Hold up your hands!”

Up went both of Jakie’s hands, held close together like children play thimble. The man dropped five nickels, one by one into Jakie’s hands, making him count them one by one. Jakie stared at his hands full of money. He felt very rich. He had had once in a while one nickel, all his own, to buy things at the cross-roads country store, to buy an apple, an orange, or candy. But never before had a handful of nickels all his own. The man asked him:

“What are you going to buy with your money?”

“Bananas!” exclaimed Jakie, his beaming smile radiantly happy that he could buy, “heaps of em,” he said.

Happiness showed in the man’s smiling face at making a child so happy, he said:

“I got ahead of your Christmas Santa Claus. I gave you a present first.”

Jakie clutched his money very tight, two nickles in one fist and three in the other.

“Thanky Mister, you is a good man—what’s you name?”

“My name is Sam Foster,” the man told him, then said, “Now tell me your name and where you live.”

“I is named Jakie Barnett, Mamsy and me lives to Clear Creek way back yonder.”

It seemed to Jakie that he had come miles and miles, but it was only two miles he had come. It was a long way to his small feet that he had walked and he was so glad now to be riding. He told the man he had a billy goat that he hitched to the wooden wheels for a wagon; told about his hickory nuts, and about their cow, as they rode along together to town. The man drove many streets out of his way to the business street of stores, which sold toys, and christmas trees, everything to make children happy! He told Jakie to keep straight on and on and he would see the stores. Jakie nimbly jumped down off the wagon. The man held his money for him, until he leaped to the ground and held his faded cap with both hands for the man to drop his money into it. He crammed the money into his breeches pocket, waved good-bye to Mr. Foster, who carefully instructed him to wait at the store that had a picture horse in the window,—after Christmas Santa Claus gave him his present, and he would take him back home. The man drove away in another direction to deliver his wood, and Jakie ran down the street toward the stores. He was afraid to wait, Christmas Santa Claus might give away all those presents to those children running to him, before he got there. He passed a fruit-stand. A big bunch of bananas dangled over-head. He halted. He bought half-dozen. The man let him sit on an empty-fruit-basket turned bottom upwards! Jakie clambered on it and crossed one foot on his knee to make “a lap” to hold his bananas. He peeled two, holding one in each hand and stuffed his mouth entirely too full for digestion. But he was hungry; he had left home without any breakfast, and he was in a hurry! He ran onward and saw crowds and crowds of people on both sides of the street. He stared at the folks he saw expecting to find big, fat, jolly old, Christmas Santa Claus, somewhere in the crowds on the side-walk. The picture showed him on the street and the children rushing to him. On and on he walked looking eagerly this way and that way. He would recognize him in a minute, from his picture. He stopped before shop-windows to stare at the wonderful toys, trains, flying machines, bicycles, everything for boys,—and he wished he had every one of them. He was growing tired, he was weary, his little heart was feeling down cast. He stopped and asked some boys “Where’s Christmas Santa Claus?” They laughed at him, and winked at each other saying: “Go ahead he’s down the street!”

Jakie resolutely trudged on down the street. He spied some small Santa Clauses in the show windows, but no live Santa Claus. He felt too shy to ask again where to find him,—boys had laughed at him!

The wind began to blow quite cold. He heard people on the street say “A norther,” a blizzard, was coming. He never heard of a blizzard, that it was a bitter-cold north wind which froze everything. He was getting very tired, and very unhappy. He had walked and walked such a long time, and could not find Christmas Santa Claus. He wondered if he were too late and Santa Claus had given away all of his presents, he had in his pack, to the children and had gone home.

The cold wind was blowing against his bare-feet, and bare arms and hands, and through the holes in his breeches legs. He thrust his hands into his pockets to warm them, but his bare-feet were just as cold. He began to shiver.

His teeth began to chatter. He was very tired, but he ran along, as fast as he could in a crowded street, to get warm. He was very, very tired and was getting colder instead of warmer. His toes smarted, his hands hurt, his ears tingled, he ached all over. He was very hungry, he was very lonely, he was very miserable, he was very cold, and had not yet found Christmas Santa Claus on the street. Two big tears dropped upon his cheeks; he wiped them off with his banana-stained hands. He was shivering violently, he was lost, he was freezing and did not know it. He spied an open door leading to an upstairs. He went in, to get behind the door out of the cold wind, to wait and get warmer. But the wind blew louder and colder and whistled around the door upon him, crouched close up in the corner.

He began to sob, he was lost and alone in a city. He did not know where he was. He knew not where the store was with the pretty picture of a horse, so he could go there and let Mr. Foster take him home to Mamsy. He could not walk home. He sobbed louder, but none of the hurrying people passing by heard him. But the eyes of Him who is upon the sparrow was upon little Jakie behind that door, and sent a beautiful friend to him. A lovely girl in a long warm cloak, with a purse full of Christmas money to buy love-gifts for her home-folks and friends, came tripping down the street right by the door where poor, cold, miserable little Jakie was behind the door. She heard a child’s sobs and stopped to locate them. They came from behind the open door. She stepped inside and peeped behind it, and found Jakie crying and freezing.

“You poor little boy!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?” Jakie heard her kind voice and stared at her through his tears, and sobbed, “I is huntin’ for Santa Claus, and can’t—can’t find him nowhere!” The fair young girl’s face beamed upon him tenderly and her eyes twinkled merrily as she asked him:

“Won’t I do just as well as Santa Claus?” Jakie looked up into her lovely face and wondered if she was an angel sent to him like Mamsy said came to the shepherds one night. Again the fair young girl asked: “Won’t I do just as well as Santa Claus?” She held out her hand to him. He explained, “Santa Claus was in a paper and children was running to him to git presents and I wanted him to give me one. Does you know him? Does you know where he is? I come by myself to find him. I is hunted everywhere for him. I is Mamsy’s little Jakie. She can’t walk so far, we got nothing to ride in. I come my own self to hunt him.”

Frances Bestor asked Jakie again, extending her gloved hand toward him: “Won’t I do as well as Santa Claus? Come with me and you shall have a present.”

Jakie placed his soiled hand into her dainty gloved hand. She felt the cold of his little hand through her glove. She led him through the crowded street as fast as they could push their way. People stared at a richly dressed, elegant girl, hurrying along the street leading by the hand a ragged, bare-foot child. But Frances’ heart was dancing over the real Christmas fun she was going to have with Jakie. She pulled him in front of her in the partition of a revolving door of a big department store. Jakie was astonished and dumb. He had never seen a revolving door. He stared as if in a bewildered dream at the beautiful store inside. He had never seen anything so beautiful. The victrola was playing Christmas-carols. Gay Christmas bells hung everywhere in the store. Red and green tissue-paper ribbons hung over-head like beautiful tangled spider-webs. It seemed to Jakie that he had suddenly stepped into heaven. He stared about, dazed, as Frances led him through the store to the boy’s clothing department. She stopped by a radiator to get him warm. She stood him close to it, holding his shivering little hands, in hers, to the pipes to warm them. When he stopped shivering she left him standing there to get thoroughly warm. She whispered to the clerk to take him to the dressing room and dress him up in all the things a little boy needs. She picked out a suit of clothes and everything for a little boy’s outfit. She came back to him and taking his hand in hers said as he looked up into her face:

“Go with this young man and he will dress you up so you won’t be so cold.” Jakie followed the clerk to the dressing room. Frances walked away toward the front of the store to wait for him.

“Mister is dis heaven where my dead mama went to?” he asked.

“Not exactly; this is a store dressed up for Christmas to sell things to people, for little boys.”

A sober, troubled look came into Jakie’s face and he timidly explained:

“Mister, I is got no money to buy things. I is got two nickels to take to my Mamsy.”

“You are not buying them,” laughed the clerk. “That pretty young lady who brought you in here is your Santa Claus.”

Jakie stared, astonished. He had been hunting for a big, fat, old man with long white beard and long white hair, and the clerk called that beautiful girl Santa Claus. He was deeply bothered. He asked eagerly “Is dis Santa Claus’ store?”

The man laughed and shook his head, saying, “No, but she is your Santa Claus giving you all these fine clothes, I am going to put on you....” Jakie then argued to himself:

“Christmas Santa Claus must wear dresses in daytime to keep from scaring children.”

The clerk helped him to remove his ragged clothes, wash his face, wash his hands and wash his feet. He helped Jakie pull on a warm white union suit first. Jakie stared in the mirror at himself all in white. He did not recognize himself. He asked bewildered:

“Is dis me, Mister?”

The clerk smiled at Jakie’s change in looks even from his ragged breeches to white unions and was greatly amused at his asking “is it me.” He answered, “Yes, it is you. Don’t you know yourself?”

“I is never had no store-clothes in all my life,” Jakie explained, admiring himself in the mirror. He started off to go back to Frances with only his white unions on.

“Hold on!” exclaimed the clerk, “that is your underwear! Here is your fine suit, she picked out for you,” holding up a boy’s pretty grey suit, and cap to match.

Jakie’s eyes opened wider than ever in astonishment. The clerk helped him to dress, helped him to put on the new suit, draw on pretty grey socks on his bare-feet, lace up new shoes, comb his hair, and fit a cap to his head. Now Jakie looked like a full-fledged city boy, handsome and up-to-date. He twisted and turned before the looking glass. The clerk watched him. Jakie said:

“Don’t look-y like me—Don’t seem like me! Is it me, sure ’nouf?”

The clerk burst into a merry laugh, assuring him:

“It’s you sure enough. Now go thank your Christmas Santa Claus. She gave you all these nice things.”

Jakie hesitated a moment then said:

“Mister, it don’t seem like me. I just wears what folks give me, and what Mamsy makes.”

“It’s sure enough you,” the clerk re-assured him, and handed him a bundle tied up neatly, which contained his old clothes, saying again:

“Now go thank your Christmas Santa Claus.”

Jakie marched toward Frances feeling like a king in his new clothes. She did not know him. She thought he was a city boy. He stopped in front of her, taking off his cap as a little gentleman. His clean, handsome face, and happy beaming eyes looked straight at her. He asked shyly.

“Is you Christmas Santa Claus?” She recognized him and laughed:

“Oh no! Santa Claus is a man, old, big and fat.”

“That man say you is!” insisted Jakie pointing back toward the clerk. “Is you Miss Christmas Santa Claus?”

“No indeed! little man,” answered Frances, laying her hand on his shoulder and patting him affectionately. “I am no Santa Claus at all. I love Christmas, and I love little boys like you. You came to town hunting for Santa Claus you saw in a picture. You could not find him. You said I would do. Christmas is Jesus’ birthday and He sent me to act Santa Claus to you. You needed a big friend when you were lonely, cold, and lost behind that door. Jesus sent me to find you. He sent me to be your big friend, and sent you to be my little friend.”

He grabbed her hand and kissed it. Then asked:

“If you isn’t Christmas Santa Claus is you an angel what Mamsy say came to find the shepherds in the dark?”

Frances blushed. Jakie’s compliment flushed her cheeks, a rosy pink. The clerk came to hand her the bill for the suit and outfit, and heard Jakie’s inquiry about an angel.

“Yes, she is your angel, my boy. Watch her pay for all the nice clothes you have on, out of her purse.”

Jakie watched her open her purse and handed several bills of paper money to the clerk. She closed her purse and asked him:

“Little man where do you live?”

“I lives to Clear Creek, it’s a long, long, way. I walked some and rided some.”

“How will you get home in the cold?”

“I is going back in a wagon I comed in, take me to where a picture horse is in a window.”

Frances led him to the toy-counter to select a toy; she knew his boy-heart wanted some happy plaything. How his eyes stared at a whole counter of Christmas toys!

“Pick out what you want,” she said.

Jakie timidly hesitated.

“Pick out what you want,” she urged him.

Shyly he raised his hand, his heart fluttering in wildest joy, and touched a toy-auto.

Frances caught it up and handed it to the clerk to wrap it up, but she spied the wistful look in his face to carry it just as it was, in his own hands. She reached and took the toy from the clerk and placed it in his hands. He looked up into her face, hugging the auto tight, and said:

“Yes, you is a angel.”

Frances thought he was happy over his new clothes but the auto-toy, all his own, was what his little heart wanted! His eyes danced, his mouth broke into a radiant, joyous, laugh. Again he watched her open her purse and take out her money and pay for his toy. She caught his hand, the other hand hugged his auto-toy, and led him out of the store. They passed through the revolving door into the crowded street. Jakie jerked his hand away suddenly from hers and darted away in the crowd. She stood still utterly astonished. He seemed so sweet and truthful it amazed her for him to wildly snatch his hand out of hers, and dart away from her. She watched him shove himself along in the crowd. She saw him grab the dress-skirt in the back of an old country woman wearing a faded, gingham dress, and a country sun-bonnet, with a faded shawl pinned close up around her neck and shoulders. The woman wheeled around astonished, at a little city boy rudely snatching her by her dress-skirt, and holding a new toy in his hand. She did not recognize her little Jakie.

“It’s me!” he exclaimed, laughing at her not knowing him in his new clothes.

Then she grew very pale, almost fainted when she saw her little boy in all the new clothes. She was hunting for a bare-foot, ragged child on the streets. She had borrowed a neighbor’s horse and wagon to come to town to hunt for him. She could think of nothing else but that her little grandson had helped himself to the new toy and to all the new things he wore. But Jakie was too happy, and too innocent, holding to Mamsy’s dress-skirt pulling her along back to Frances, through the crowd, to notice how scared and pale Mamsy was, and called out to Frances:

“Here’s my Mamsy!”

Frances quickly held her hand out to Mamsy. She saw Mamsy was about to faint. She hastily explained to her:

“I found your little Jakie, cold, lost and crying behind a door, on the street. He was hunting for Santa Claus, and could not find him. So I played Santa Claus to him, and gave him all he wears, and gave him the toy-auto too.”

The color came back into Mamsy’s face, Frances handed to her the bundle of Jakie’s old garments. Mamsy’s fears fled; joy and gratitude beamed in her care-worn, wrinkled, face.

“God bless you! God bless you child!” holding Frances’ hand tight in hers, she lifted it and bent over and touched her lips upon it in gratitude. Then she explained:

“I’m old and we are poor but I loves him and keeps him. We got nothing much way out in the backwoods. He wanted some Christmas so bad he come off to hunt a Santa Claus he saw in a picture. I got nothin’ to ride in, and it’s too far to walk. I borrowed a neighbor’s wagon and horse to come hunt him. God took care of him and sent you to him.” Mamsy’s eyes filled with tears.

Jakie was listening and watching them. He broke in:

“Mamsy she say Jesus sent her to me, did He?”

“He sure did!” Mamsy answered. “You would a been frozen by now in this cold wind. Jesus sure did send her to you, for your Christmas Santa Claus!”

Mamsy was shivering, and Frances noticed how thin her shawl and her dress were. Jakie’s upturned face was gazing at Frances. She leaned over and whispered to him:

“Bring your Mamsy into the store and let us make her happy too. I want to be her Christmas Santa Claus too.”

Jakie seized Mamsy’s dress-skirt again and began pulling toward the revolving door, saying:

“Come on Mamsy! come on! She say she wants to be your Christmas Santa Claus too.”

Dazed and reluctant, Mamsy allowed Jakie to pull her on. She was afraid of the revolving door and held back. Frances stepped close beside her, and placing her hand on her back gently shoved her forward, hurrying through.

The beautiful decorations everywhere in the store, for Christmas, made Mamsy feel it looked like heaven. She and Jakie followed Frances to the elevator. They had never seen a box going up and down in the wall, as Mamsy called it. It frightened them both. They clung to each other afraid.

Frances led the way out to the cloak department. Frances picked out a dark-blue, long, warm cloak for Mamsy. She insisted on Mamsy trying it on. But Mamsy protested declaring:

“Honey, I’m nothing but an old country woman. Never worn a city cloak. I always wears shawls.”

But Frances persuaded her to try it on. She stood before one mirror looking at herself in the long pretty cloak. Jakie stood before another mirror admiring himself, twisting and turning. He called out to Mamsy:

“You don’t look like you, and me don’t look like me.”

Mamsy accepted the cloak, and Frances slipped to one side and paid the clerk for it, happy that Mamsy had it to ride the long way back home in the bitter cold.

Mamsy looked as changed as Jakie when they came down the elevator. Frances knew they must be hungry, as it was long past their dinner time. They came out of the store. Frances invited them to go to a lunch counter and get a hot lunch. Mamsy said she must first see if the horse was where she tied him. Frances went with them around the corner to the side street where the horse stood tied to the hitching post, humped and drawn up from the cold. Frances observed very carefully the horse and wagon; she was planning some Christmas fun with it. They went to the lunch counter farther down the street. Their happy faces wore a greater change than they looked in their new clothes.

She saw them seated at the counter, and went to the cash-clerk, paid for their lunch. She bade them good-bye, after she wrote on her card their address.

“You is an angel,” Jakie insisted. He waved his hand to her until she closed the door behind her.

She walked very fast, almost running in such a hurry to get back to the wagon. She entered a grocery store close by. She picked out oranges, apples, cakes, candies, pecans, raisins and bananas, for Jakie’s Christmas. The clerk tied them in separate bags, then put all the bags into a coarse crocker-sack, and tied it.

Frances spied a picture in the store of the same big, fat, old Santa Claus. She begged for it, and wrote in big letters “Jakie which Santa Claus do you like best?” The clerk pasted it on the bag, swung the sack over his shoulder, and hurried out to the wagon; Frances saying, “Hurry quick! hurry before they come back to the wagon.”

She paid for the things in the sack. She stood, then to examine her pocket-book, to count what money she had left. Her purse was empty,—just a few pennies left to buy Christmas love-gifts for her home-folks and friends. Instead, all of her money had been spent on a dear, ragged little orphan boy, hunting for Santa Claus. And upon a dear old country woman to keep her warm.

Her face beamed, for her heart whispered to her that her money went where it gave the greatest joys at Christmas time.

Yes, her purse was really empty,—no money left in it! But unspeakable happiness whispered to her: Jesus’ own words:

“In as much as ye did it unto the least of these ye did it unto me!”

And his birthday is “love-day” of one toward another, all over the world, and among all people and children where the Bible is loved.