"She acts so unlike herself," my mother said, anxiously. "You don't feel sick anywhere, do you, Rhoda?"

"No," I replied, huskily.

Grandmother evinced a sudden interest.

"I wouldn't let her go to Evelyn's," she said.

"But I want to go!" I cried, piteously.

"There, there," my father said, in a soothing way. "Of course you may go."

"Only you must take an iron pill first," my mother pleaded. "Just to please mother."

She did the pill up very neatly in a raisin, so that it did not look at all like a pill. My mother could make the most horrible things look nice,--such as cough syrup, with little specks of jelly floating on it like a pudding. Afterwards you might know by the taste that there had been something wrong, but you could never tell beforehand; not even though you might wonder at dessert being kindly offered for breakfast.

I took my pill meekly, and drank a gla.s.s of milk to please my father.

Then after much consultation they put on my cloak, and let me go. I had the picture-book and the hat hidden under my arm as I went out the door, but n.o.body noticed.

Evelyn's house was farther down the street, not quite out of sight from our front gate, but still at a little distance. There were orphans going in when I came up,--orphans in decorous rows of twos; each little girl with a white ap.r.o.n hanging down under her cloak. They went in very quietly, not at all as if they were excited at the prospect. I felt that they could not know what was inside. I watched to see them dance when they pa.s.sed the parlor door, but they only stared stolidly.

"A merry Christmas to all of you," a sonorous voice cried within.

I peeped in cautiously. There he was! That was Santa Claus. He stood by a beautiful tree at the top of the room. He had on a white fur coat, and there was a s.h.a.ggy cap on his head. He smiled at us. It almost seemed that he smiled at me, little Rhoda Harcourt, as if he remembered the chimney! His arms were full of dolls, but I knew at first glance that I could never really like him. There was something about his face that made it impossible.

"These dolls are only for good girls," he said again, in a loud voice that had a m.u.f.fled sound.

I slipped in closer. The orphans stared back at him unconcernedly. They were sure that they were good. One, a very sleepy orphan, put her head on her chair, and went fast to sleep in the most impolite way.

"Here, wake up!" the next orphan said, and slapped her.

She woke up and slapped her neighbor back, and was going to sleep again when Santa Claus called her name. It was Betsy. He gave Betsy the first doll. He was evidently quite satisfied with her behavior. I was much surprised.

The dolls went quickly after that, all except the queen. She sat up high on the tree, and her eyes had a frightened look, as though she did not like orphans. Once Santa Claus took her down, but Evelyn put her back again.

"Not that one, Frank," I heard her cry.

He turned and whispered something to her behind the tree. The branches were very thick, but for a moment I almost thought that his face grew different, younger and fairer, and with a gleam of triumphant laughter about it quite unlike the Santa Claus that he had been before. Then he changed again, and came out, with his long beard flowing and his fierce white eyebrows frowning, to give away more dolls.

At the very end of all he picked up the queen, and called gruffly, "Rhoda!"

I peered out of my corner at the orphans. I could not see any orphan Rhoda among them. Just suppose that Santa Claus should mean me! He did mean me! He beckoned with what he thought was a friendly look.

"Rhoda," Evelyn cried. "Why, you're not afraid, are you, dear?"

"No," I answered, hastily.

I do not think that she quite believed me, for she took me by the hand and led me up to where Santa Claus stood waiting with the queen in his arms. It was evident that he had forgotten everything, everything that I had ever told him.

"This is for you," he said in a genial way, holding out the doll.

The queen looked at me with delighted eyes, the dear queen! but I could not take her. I gave him the hat and the picture-book in a hurry.

"I don't want these," I said. "You know what I want. I told you up the chimney. And you promised to bring him to me. You know that you did!"

He seemed a little astonished for a moment, and then he laughed.

"Did I?" he questioned. "What chimney was that? You see I go up so many that sometimes I forget."

"What did you want, Rhoda?" Evelyn asked in surprise, putting her arms around me. "Tell Evelyn."

"I want grandmother's little boy to come home," I answered, almost crying. "The little boy who made the lilac ring. All day long she watches for him. I don't like to see poor grandmother cry!"

There were other things which I might have said, but Evelyn stopped me with a backward glance at the rows of orphans agog on their chairs, and a lady or two who had come with them watching in the background. Even Santa Claus was startled.

"A touch of tragedy," he said. "Who is this child?"

"Can't you guess?" Evelyn whispered. "What was I telling you just now!"

He looked down at me with sudden enlightenment.

"Rhoda!" he cried, uncertainly. "It's not our Rhoda? She was a baby."

"But babies grow in five years," Evelyn replied, in a laughing tone.

He stooped lower and drew me to him.

"Whatever I promised I will do," he said, emphatically. "If you wanted the whole world I would give it to you to-day!"

He threw off the long yellow cloak that was wrapped about him and did something to his face. In a moment he was just a man like other men, and had me upon his shoulder. Somehow it seemed to me that I had been on his shoulder before when the floor was farther away.

"Almost too big for the old perch," he said, with a laugh that was half merry and half tremulous.

"Oh, don't forget her doll!" Evelyn cried.

She came a little closer to him so that she could whisper.

"I honor you for this," she said, ardently.

Then she put the queen on his other arm, and gave me the hat and picture-book to carry. The orphans laughed a little, but Santa Claus did not mind. He strode out into the sunshine with his heavy load, and started up the block. The bells were ringing for service as we went along, and the street was filled with people, but I was the only little girl in the whole town whom Santa Claus took home. And at our parlor window grandmother was looking out.

V

THE HOTTENTOT