The Imp's Christmas Dinner
on the Imp, who uncurled himself with a sniff and stared at the visitor. Uncle George laughed.
"Only my nephew, Henderson," he said. "I'm afraid you'll have to run along, Imp, I'm very busy to-night."
The Imp pricked up his ears. "Is it the one that's going to have to tie up all the bundles himself?" he asked with interest. And as both men stared he added politely, "I mean with Wicks—he and Wicks together."
"What do you mean?" asked his uncle laughingly.
"When they strike, you know," said the Imp, looking inquiringly from one to the other. "There won't be anybody else—not a body. He'll have to run pretty fast—he's so small."
Mr. Henderson stared harder at the rumpled little boy with the sleep yet in his brown eyes. Uncle George picked him up and said:
"What do you know of a strike, Perry? Where did you ever hear of one?"
"It isn't when you hit anybody," explained the Imp eagerly. He had labored under that delusion at first himself, and he sympathized with his hearers. "You all go away from the store and don't
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