A Little Book of Christmas by John Kendrick Bangs

Author:John Kendrick Bangs [Bangs, John Kendrick]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: manybooks.net

II

Santa Claus made no reply to this remark, beyond giving a very deep sigh, which Little Billee chose to believe was evidence of a great inward content. They walked on now in silence, for Little Billee was beginning to feel almost too tired to talk, and Santa Claus seemed to be thinking of something else. Finally, however, the little fellow spoke.

"I guess I'd like to go home now, Mr. Santa Claus," he said. "I'm tired, and I'm afraid my mama will be wondering where I've gone to."

"That's so, my little man," said Santa Claus, stopping short in his walk up and down the block. "Your mother will be worried, for a fact; and your father, too--I know how I'd feel if my little boy got losted and hadn't come home at dinner-time. I don't believe you know where you live, though--now, honest! Come! 'Fess up, Billee, you don't know where you live, do you?"

"Why, yes, I do," said Little Billee. "It's in the big gray stone house with the iron fence in front of it, near the park."

"Oh, that's easy enough!" laughed Santa Claus nervously. "Anybody could say he lived in a gray stone house with a fence around it, near the park; but you don't know what street it's on, nor the number, either. I'll bet fourteen wooden giraffes against a monkey-on-a-stick!"

"No, I don't," said Little Billee frankly; "but I know the number of our ortymobile. It's 'N. Y.'"

"Fine!" laughed Santa Claus. "If you really were lost, it would be a great help to know that; but not being lost, as you ain't, why, of course, we can get along without it. It's queer you don't know your last name, though."

"I do, too, know my last name!" blurted Little Billee. "It's Billee. That's the last one they gave me, anyhow."

Santa Claus reflected for a moment, eying the child anxiously.

"I don't believe you even know your papa's name," he said.

"Yes, I do," said Little Billee indignantly. "His name is Mr. Harrison."

"Well, you are a smart little chap," cried Santa Claus gleefully. "You got it right the very first time, didn't you? I really didn't think you knew. But I don't believe you know where your papa keeps his bake-shop, where he makes all those nice cakes and cookies you eat."

Billee began to laugh again.

"You can't fool me, Mr. Santa Claus," he said. "I know my papa don't keep a bake-shop just as well as you do. My papa owns a bank."

"Splendid! Made of tin, I suppose, with a nice little hole at the top to drop pennies into?" said Santa Claus.

"No, it ain't, either!" retorted Little Billee. "It's made of stone, and has more than a million windows in it. I went down there with my mama to papa's office the other day, so I guess I ought to know."

"Well, I should say so," said Santa Claus. "Nobody better. By the way, Billee, what does your mama call your papa? 'Billee,' like you?" he added.

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