Not Father Santa Claus! He
has enough to do with distributing the presents after they are made;
besides, fancy-work is not in a man's line,--not even a saint's! But
what so likely as that he should have a mate, and that it is to her we
are indebted for all this? What an immense work-basket Mother Santa
Claus's must be! What a glancing thimble and swift needle and thread!
Can't you imagine her throwing aside her scissors and spool-bag to
help the dear saint "tackle up" and load the sledge? And who knows but
she sits behind as he drives over the roofs of the universe on the
blessed eve, and holds the reins while Santa Claus dispenses to
favored chimneys the innumerable pretty things which he and she have
chuckled over together months and months before the rest of us knew
anything about them?
This is not a fact. It can't be proved in any way, for none of us
knows anything about the Santa Clauses or their abode. There is no
telegraphing, or writing to the selectmen of their town to inquire
about them; they haven't even a post-office address.
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