Part 30 (1/2)
”That isn't any matter, mamsie,” they both said, cheerily; ”it's a great deal better to have the children have a nice time--oh, won't it be elegant! p'r'aps we'll have ours next year!”
For two days before, the house was turned upside down for Joel to find the biggest stocking he could; but on Polly telling him it must be his own, he stopped his search, and bringing down his well-worn one, hung it by the corner of the chimney to be ready.
”You put yours up the other side, Dave,” he advised.
”There isn't any nail,” cried David, investigating.
”I'll drive one,” said Joel, so he ran out to the tool-house, as one corner of the wood-shed was called, and brought in the hammer and one or two nails.
”Phronsie's a-goin' in the middle,” he said, with a nail in his mouth.
”Yes, I'm a-goin' to hang up my stockin',” cried the child, hopping from one toe to the other.
”Run get it, Phronsie,” said Joel, ”and I'll hang it up for you.
”Why, it's two days before Christmas yet,” said Polly, laughing; ”how they'll look hanging there so long.”
”I don't care,” said Joel, giving a last thump to the nail; ”we're a-goin' to be ready. Oh, dear! I wish 'twas to-night!”
”Can't Seraphina hang up her stocking?” asked Phronsie, coming up to Polly's side; ”and Baby, too?”
”Oh, let her have part of yours,” said Polly, ”that'll be best--Seraphina and Baby, and you have one stocking together.”
”Oh, yes,” cried Phronsie, easily pleased; ”that'll be best.” So for the next two days, they were almost distracted; the youngest ones asking countless questions about Santa Claus, and how he possibly could get down the chimney, Joel running his head up as far as he dared, to see if it was big enough.
”I guess he can,” he said, coming back in a sooty state, looking very much excited and delighted.
”Will he be black like Joey?” asked Phronsie, pointing to his grimy face.
”No,” said Polly; ”he don't ever get black.”
”Why?” they all asked; and then, over and over, they wanted the delightful mystery explained.
”We never'll get through this day,” said Polly in despair, as the last one arrived. ”I wish 'twas to-night, for we're all ready.”
”Santy's coming! Santy's coming!” sang Phronsie, as the bright afternoon sunlight went down over the fresh, crisp snow, ”for it's night now.”
”Yes, Santa is coming!” sang Polly; and ”Santa Claus is coming,” rang back and forth through the old kitchen, till it seemed as if the three little old stockings would hop down and join in the dance going on so merrily.
”I'm glad mine is red,” said Phronsie, at last, stopping in the wild jig, and going up to see if it was all safe, ”cause then Santy'll know it's mine, won't he, Polly?”
”Yes, dear,” cried Polly, catching her up. ”Oh, Phronsie! you are going to have a Christmas!”
”Well, I wish,” said Joel, ”I had my name on mine! I know Dave'll get some of my things.”
”Oh, no, Joe,” said Mrs. Pepper, ”Santa Claus is smart; he'll know yours is in the left-hand corner.”
”Will he?” asked Joel, still a little fearful.