rs and
toes before daybreak."

"If you love me, Jack, spare the children," begged Claus.

"And why?" asked the other, in surprise.

"They are tender and helpless," answered Claus.

"But I love to nip the tender ones!" declared Jack. "The older ones
are tough, and tire my fingers."

"The young ones are weak, and can not fight you," said Claus.

"True," agreed Jack, thoughtfully. "Well, I will not pinch a child
this night--if I can resist the temptation," he promised. "Good night,
Claus!"

"Good night."

The young man went in and closed the door, and Jack Frost ran on to the
nearest village.

Claus threw a log on the fire, which burned up brightly. Beside the
hearth sat Blinkie, a big cat give him by Peter the Knook. Her fur was
soft and glossy, and she purred never-ending songs of contentment.

"I shall not see the children again soon," said Claus to the cat, who
kindly paused in her song to listen. "The winter is upon us, the snow
will be deep for many days, and I shall be unable to play with my
little friends."

The cat raised a paw and stroked her nose thoughtfully, but made no
reply. So long as the fire burned and Claus sat in his easy chair by
the hearth she did not mind the weather.

So passed many days and many long evenings. The cupboard was always
full, but Claus became weary with having nothing to do more than to
feed the fire from the big wood-pile the Knooks had brought him.

One evening he picked up a stick of wood and began to cut it with his
sharp knife. He had no thought, at first, except to occupy his time,
and he whistled and sang to the cat as he carved away portions of the
stick. Puss sat up on her haunches and watched him, listening at the
same time to her master's merry whistle, which she loved to hear even
more than her own purring songs.

Claus glanced at puss and then at the stick he was whittling, until
presently the wood began to have a shape, and the shape was like the
head of a cat, with two ears sticking upward.

Claus stopped whistling to laugh, and then both he and the cat looked
at the wooden image in some surprise. Then he carved out the eyes and
the nose, and rounded the lower part of the head so that it rested upon
a neck.

Puss hardly knew what to make of it now, and sat up stiffly, as if
watching with some suspicion what would come next.

Claus knew. The head gave him an idea. He plied his knife carefully
and with skill, forming slowly the body of