"Didn't you see the evergreen tree he carried?"
"M-hm," said Eddie, the image taking shape in his mind's eye.
"And his brown coat all trimmed with fur, an' his funny peaked hat?
An' his red nose? W'y, course you did." The boy nodded his head.
He was sure now. Yes. Faith was lost in sight. He believed.
"I expect he's in the closet now. Go look."
"No. You." He clung to D.
"I can't. I got this flat-iron in my lap, an' wouldn't spill the
nut-shells all over the floor. You don't want me to, do you, Ma?"
Mrs. Allgire shook her head.
"Well, now," said D. "Anybody tell you they ain't sich a person
as Santy Claus, you kin jist stand 'em down 'at you know better,
'cause you seen him, didn't you?"
Eddie nodded his head. Anyhow, what D. told him was "the Lord
said unto Moses," and now that he had the evidence of his own eyes
- Well, the next day he defied Bunt Rogers and all his works. To
tell the plain truth, Bunt wasn't too well grounded in his newly
cut infidelity.
In the public schools the children were no longer singing:
"None knew thee but to love thee, thou dear one of my heart;
Oh, thy mem'ry is ever fresh and green.
The sweet buds may wither and fond hearts be broken,
Still I love thee, my darling, Daisy Deane."
They turned over now to page 53, and there was a picture of Santa
Claus just as in Plotner's window, except that he had a pack on
his back and one leg in the chimney.
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