Polly and the Princess Part 63

Santa Claus was the same rotund, pudgy old fellow--with the long white beard and the laughing face--that children love, and on his broad back was the proverbial pack of presents. His wife, in fur from head to foot, wore a frilled fur cap, and, safely hidden behind her spectacled, rosy-cheeked mask, looked the veritable mother of all the little Santa Clauses attributed to her. The children stood silently by in their picturesque costumes, looking round the room, as children will, while their father and mother conversed with the host and hostess.

Finally they were all seated, and Madam Santa Claus began in quite a motherly way to talk about her children.

"It's Polly Dudley," whispered Mrs. Tenney to Mrs. Prindle. "I know her voice. And I'm pretty sure that little one is Doodles.

Don't they look funny?"

They were all clad in red and white. The girls wore scarlet frocks reaching almost to the floor, with short white fur coats, and caps to match. The boys had long red trousers, and coats like those of their sisters. As they looked around on the company they bore a strong resemblance to their parents, with their rosy cheeks and laughing lips.

"I had to leave most of the children at home," the mother was saying. "Lambkin is too young to come out such a cold night, so Eagle stayed to take care of her; and at the very last minute Monkey broke his arm, and of course Brother couldn't come without his twin. It only served Monkey right, he's so careless--though I'm not quite sure that it is Monkey! I never can tell those boys apart." Mother Santa Claus wagged her head cheerfully. "Then, Mousey and Deer have sore throats, and I thought the rest had better stay and keep the sick ones company. They'll have a good Christmas Eve all together, even if they are sick."

"Please, can I take off my coat?" asked one of the girls, coming to her mother's side.

"Not yet, Starling. Sit down and be quiet!"

"Your children have unusual names," twinkled the host gravely.

"That's what people say," the mother returned. "But we simply name them according to their characteristics. This one," nodding to the girl who had just gone back to her seat, "we call Starling, because she talks so much, and her sister there is Dove, because she is so gentle. Squirrel is the nimblest of them all and he is never still a minute. See him wiggling round now! This little one," reaching out a hand to the smallest of the four, "is Lark. because he sings so sweetly.--Can't you sing your new carol, dear?"

So the youngest of the Santa Clauses stood up obediently and sung a beautiful Christmas song about the Baby Christ. The applause was long and insistent.

"He'll sing again for you pretty soon," promised Mother Santa Claus. "I think father is ready to distribute the presents now.

Come, children, run along and help him, and mind you all step lively!"

The rosy-cheeked Saint took up a big parcel, and read off, in a clear voice, "Miss Katharine Crilly."

Starling was nearest, and took the package; but Miss Crilly, a little upset at being the owner of the first name called, jumped up and hurried across the room for her present, unheedful of mistletoe and the eyes that were watching her. Just inside the enchanted circle, the sudden hush of the room gave her its warning. She caught the eager glances directed beyond her, and turning her head uttered a startled cry. Almost at the same instant an arm shot toward her, missing its aim by scarce an inch. With one bound she cleared the invisible line of danger, and, scudding straight past Starling and her inviting parcel, stopped only at the detaining hand of her laughing hostess.

"Mercy sakes!" she cried, and her face rivaled in color the Santa Claus reds, as she met the laughing eyes of her host.

She came back with her parcel, much flurried and still scarlet of face, while squeals of laughter and gay sallies rang about her.

After that there was more heed, and the distribution of presents went on without further hindrance.

The big bag was empty at last, and Santa Claus exclaimed with a sigh: "Oh, but it's hot! I say, let's get off some of this toggery!" He slipped himself out of his fur coat, pulled off his cap and his mask--and there was David Collins, smiling blithely to the company!

The others were quick in following his example, and Madam Santa Claus stood revealed as laughing Polly, with Patricia, Leonora, Blue, and Doodles cl.u.s.tered round her.

Then there was plenty to say, many thanks to be given, and much chatter and laughter. In the midst of it all, Nelson Randolph made himself heard:--

"Ye men-folk, listen! I am glad to share my rewards with you, so go ahead, David and Blue and Doodles, and obtain as much tribute as possible under the mistletoe!"

"How can you share what you haven't got and never had and don't know as you ever will have?" laughed Miss Crilly.

He turned toward the saucy speaker and shook his finger sternly.

"Jilting me, and then taunting me of my failure! Katharine Crilly, perhaps before midnight the slipper will be on the other foot!"

This brought a hubbub of applause and merriment, and the ladies backed away from the charmed circle and giggled and talked gayly among themselves.

But Christmas presents are bewitching things, and it was not long before mistletoe was all forgotten in the beauties of fine needlework, the mysteries of new st.i.tches, and the attractions of dainty knickknacks. David and Blue and Doodles succeeded in making momentary captives of Mrs. Tenney, Mrs. Winslow Teed. and Miss Lily, while Polly and Patricia were several times arrested on their heedless ways across the room.

Nelson Randolph seemed to have eyes only for Miss Crilly, although once Polly almost walked into his hands. A short but exciting race she led him before dodging behind Miss Mullaly's chair and asking breathlessly if the mistletoe was all over the room.

He halted and looked round on the laughing company.

"My word of honor! I forgot!--Lady Polly, I humbly beg your gracious pardon!" He bowed low.

"Granted, Sir Rogue!" she replied, dropping a curtsy.

Full of the spirit of mischief, Patricia slipped away to the piano.

And so the waltzing began.

Of course, everybody knew what to expect from their "men-folk"

partners unless they were exceedingly wary, and only an occasional couple whirled into the enchanted circle.

Ice cream and cakes were succeeded by music and the singing of carols, until somebody suggested that it was time to go home.

The host took out his watch.

"I shall not open the door for anybody yet," he declared. "Only ten o'clock! Master Lark will give us another song!"

But before the command had been obeyed, the telephone rang l.u.s.tily.

"Oh, is it!" Mrs. Randolph heard her husband say. "Thank you all, and a Merry Christmas to every one of you!"

When he returned he nodded smilingly to her, and then Doodles gave a funny little sleepy song that none of the others had heard,--"The Land of I-dunno-where."

Afterwards came more carols, until Blue and Doodles had to hurry away lest they miss the last car to Foxford.

The all-day guests began to put on their wraps, word was sent to bring up the car, and all was bustle and happy words and Merry Christmases in abundance. Each guest carried a pretty basket filled with gifts from the host and hostess, and it was nearly eleven before the last load was off, with the sleighful of young folks to keep it company.

Nelson Randolph and his wife went silently back to the deserted living-room.

"Seems kind of lonely, doesn't it?" she said.

"Not a bit!" he replied, leading her under the mistletoe and claiming his reward.

"They did have a good time," she said happily.

"The best, I'll warrant, that they've had for a decade." He looked down at his wife searchingly.

"What is it?" she smiled.

"You didn't care, did you?"

"For what?"

He tossed his head toward the branch above them.