The King of Schnorrers (Collection)/Santa Claus
Santa Claus.
A STORY FOR THE NURSERY.
Although Bob was asleep on the doorstep the children in the passage talked so loudly that they woke him up. They did not mean to do it, for they were nice, clean, handsome children. Bob was always pretty dirty, so nobody knew if he was pretty clean. He was not a dog, though you might think so from his name and the way he was treated. Nobody cared for Bob except Tommy whom he could fight one-hand. The lucky nice clean children had jam to lick, but Bob had only Tommy. Poor Tommy!
Bob sat up on his stony doorstep, drawing his rags around him. His toes were freezing. When you have no boots it is awkward to stamp your feet. That is why they are so cold. Bob's idea of heaven was a place with a fire in it. He lived before Free Education and his ideas were mixed.
Bob heard the children inside talking about Santa Claus and the presents they expected. Bob gathered that he was a kind-hearted old gentleman, and he thought to himself: "If I could find out Santa Claus's address, I'd go and arx 'im for some presents too." So he waited outside, shivering, till a pretty little girl and boy came out, when he said to them: "Please, can you tell me where Santa Claus lives?" 298 SANTA CLAUS.
The little girl and boy drew back when he spoke to them, because they had strict orders to keep their pinafores clean. But when they heard his strange question, they looked at each other with large eyes. Then their pretty faces filled with smiling sunshine, and they said : " He lives in the sky. He is a spirit."
Bob's face fell. " Oh, then I carn't call upon 'im," he said. " But 'ow is it / never gets no presents like I 'ears yer say you does? "
"Perhaps you are not a good child," said the little girl gravely.
"Yes, look how you've torn your clothes," said the little boy reprovingly.
" Well, but 'ow is you goin' to get presents from the sky ? "
" We hang up our stockings to-night, just before Christ- mas, and in the night Santa Claus fills them," they explained, and just then the maid came out and led them away.
Now Bob understood. He had never had any stockings in his life. He felt mad to think how much else he had missed through the want of a pair. If he could only get a pair of stockings to hang up, he might be a rich boy and dine off bread and treacle. He wandered through the courts and alleys looking for stockings in the gutters and dustbins. They were not there. Old boots were to be found in abun- dance though not in couples (which was odd) ; but Bob soon discovered that people never throw away their stock- ings. At last he plucked up courage and begged from house to house, but nobody had a pair to spare. What becomes of all the old stockings? Not everybody hoards treasure in them. Bob met plenty of kind hearts ; they offered him bread when he asked for a stocking.
At last, weary and footsore, he returned to his doorstep and pondered. He wondered if he could cheat Santa Claus SANTA CLAUS. 299
by making a pair out of a piece of newspaper he had picked up. But perhaps Mr. Claus was particular about the mate- rial and admitted nothing under cotton. He thought of stepping deeply into the mud and caking a pair, but then he could only remove them at night by brushing them off in little pieces ; he feared they would stick too tight to come off whole. He also thought of painting his calves with stripes from " wet paint," on the off chance that Mr. Claus would drop the presents carelessly down along his legs. But he concluded that if Mr. Claus lived in the sky he could look down and see all he was doing. So he began to cry instead.
"What are you crying about?" said a quavering voice, and Bob, startled, became aware of a wretched old creature dining on the doorstep at his side.
" I ain't got no stockings," he sobbed in answer.
" Well, I'll give you mine," said his neighbour.
Bob hesitated. The poor old woman looked so broken- down herself, it seemed mean to accept her offer.
"Won't you be cold?" he asked timidly.
" I shan't be warmer," mumbled the old woman. " But then you will."
"No, I won't have them, thank you kindly, mum," said Bob stoutly.
"Then I'll tell you what to do," said the old woman, who was really a fairy, though she had lost both wings — they had been amputated in a surgical operation. " It's easy enough to get stockings if you only know how. Run away now and pick out any person you meet and say, ' I wish that person's stockings were on my feet.' You can only wish once, so be careful, especially, not to wish for a pair of blue stockings, as they won't suit you."
She grinned and vanished. Bob jumped up and was 
about to wish off the stockings of the first man he met, when a horrible thought struck him. The man had nice clothes and looked rich, but what proof was there he had stockings on ? Bob really could not afford to risk wasting his wish. He walked about and looked at all the people — the men with their long trousers, the women with their trailing skirts ; and the more he walked, the more grew his doubt and his agony. A terrible scepticism of humanity seized him. They looked very prim and demure without, these men and women, with their varnished boots and their satin gowns, but what if they were all hypocrites, walking about without stockings ! Night came on. Half distracted by distrust of his kind, he wandered on to the docks, and there to his joy he saw people coming off a steamer by a narrow plank. As they walked the ladies lifted up their skirts so as not to tumble over them, and he caught several glimpses of dainty stockings. At last he selected a lady with very broad stock- ings, that looked as if they would hold lots of Mr. Claus's presents, and wished. Instantly he felt very funny about the feet, and the lady wobbled about so in her big boots that she overbalanced herself and fell into the water and was drowned.
Bob ran back to his doorstep, and when it was dark slipped off his stockings carefully and hung them up on the knocker. And — sure enough ! — in the morning they were full of fine cigars and Spanish lace. Bob sold the lace for a penny, but he kept the cigars and smoked the first with his penn'uth of Christmas plum-duff.
Moj-ai : — England expects every man to pay his duty.