A Little Book of Christmas Part 11

"Don't bother," said Ricketts, from the depths of the lounge, where he had been trying for some minutes to get a much-needed rest. "I--I--er--I haven't anything on hand, boys. Leave him to me. I'll take care of him."

"I move we all meet here to-morrow," said Grantham, "and see what's to be done with the kid."

Ricketts rose up from the lounge, and started to speak, but he was interrupted by the doctor.

"Did any of you think to ask the little tad his name?" he inquired.

"That's where I come in, boys," said Ricketts. "You needn't bother your heads about his name or his to-morrow--I'll take care of both. You men have provided him with the joys of to-day--pretty substantial joys, too, as those of us who have helped him to enjoy them can testify. As a hearthless old bachelor, bundleless and forlorn, I was unable to qualify on the toy end of things, but when it comes to names, I'll give him one as my contribution to his Christmas possessions."

"Good for you, Billie!" laughed Dobbleigh. "Would you mind telling us what it is to be, so that we can put him on our visiting lists?"

"Not in the least," returned Ricketts, with an affectionate glance at the boy. "He is to be known henceforth as William Ricketts, Junior."

"_William Ricketts, Junior?_" cried the others, almost in one voice.

"Precisely," said Ricketts, turning and facing them. "From now on you fellows will have to quit putting it all over me because you have children, and I haven't. I've come into a ready-made family--rather unexpectedly, but there it is. It's mine, and I'm going to keep it. I've been without one too long, and after what I have tasted this day I find that I have acquired a thirst for paternity that can never be cured.

To-morrow I propose to adopt our small guest here formally by due process of law."

"But where do we come in on this?" cried Grantham. "It's bully of you, old man, but we can't permit you to shoulder the whole burden of this boy's--"

"Shut up, Gran!" retorted Ricketts, with an affectation of fine scorn.

"You and the rest of this bunch are nothing but a lot of blooming uncles. And by the way, gentlemen," he added, with a courtly bow, "I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for your kindness to my son.

Good night."

And with that, six of the exiles pa.s.sed out into the twilight, and hurried back to their own firesides, leaving Ricketts to his own.

And that is why, too, that the club servants, when they came to make their rounds that night before turning out the lights, were surprised to find old Billie Ricketts lying fast asleep in the warm embrace of one of the richly upholstered armchairs of the lounging room, before the blazing log fire on the hearth, with a mite of a boy curled up in his lap, his little red head snuggled close to the manly chest of his protector, and a happy little smile upon his lips, that showed that his dreams were sweet, and that in those arms he felt himself secure from the trials of life.

There was that upon the faces of both that gave the watchers pause, and they refrained from waking them, merely turning out the electric lights, and tiptoeing softly out of the room, leaving the sleepers bathed in the mellow glow of the dancing flames.

Two lonely hearts had come into their own in the House of the Seven Santas!

THE END.