"What are you doing, Artie dear?" asked Anne.
He looked up at her with big round blue eyes. He was a quiet,
good-tempered little fellow, now perplexed with serious thoughts.
"I'm going to hang up all two my socks," he announced.
"Why, Arthur-boy! that sounds selfish--not like you," exclaimed Anne.
"You don't want more than your share of Santa Claus's pretty things, do
you? Don't you want him to save some toys and books and candies for
other little boys?"
Arthur followed his own course of thought, without regard to Anne's
questions. "One sock is for me," he said. "I hope Santa'll 'member and
give me what I asked him."
"What did you ask him to bring you, honey?" inquired Anne.
Arthur looked at her gravely. "I'se forgot. Was so many fings. And one
sock is for Santa C'aus. I'm going to fill it all full of fings. A
apple. And popcorn balls--Marfa made 'em. And my dear woolly dog's for
Santa. Will he care if it's foot's bwoke?"
"But, Arthur darling," suggested Anne, "I wouldn't give the woolly dog
away. You love it best of all your toys."
"Yes, I do," agreed Arthur. "Old Santa'll love him, too. And I'll give
him my wed wose. Mamma wored it to her party las' night.
Pages:
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124