Do you know, Mrs. Huntley?"
"You can tell me, child?"
"You see, He came a long, long time ago as a little baby. Mamma says
that he began at the beginning, so that no little child could say, 'I
can't be like Jesus, for Jesus never was so little as me.' That first
birthday of His, there wasn't any room for Him at the tavern, and when
the dear little baby Jesus was sleepy, they laid Him right in a stable
manger, and the shepherds found Him lying there. Christmas is His
Birthday, and I suppose they give all the children presents because
Jesus loved little children, and then Santa Claus--Oh, Mrs. Huntley,
that's what I came about, and I 'most forgot! If you don't keep
Christmas--I mean as we do," she added, as Mrs. Huntley frowned, "and
if you don't use the things that Santa Claus leaves here, can't I come
over and get 'em? Only I'd rather Ned should have 'em."
"Child alive! How your tongue runs! Here, now, take these cookies home
with you, I guess Ned's too busy to play with you."
"Thank you, ma'am.
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