hes did n't bother us much, and every time
we slid sidesaddle we 'd give the ashes a kick, and that sort of
scattered 'em."

The bare thought of this made Santa Claus laugh.

"Goin' on about nine o'clock," said Joel, "the girls come along--Sister
Elvira an' Thankful, Prudence Tucker, Belle Yocum, Sophrone Holbrook,
Sis Hubbard, an' Marthy Sawyer. Marthy's brother Increase wanted her
to ride on _his_ sled, but Marthy allowed that a red sled was her
choice every time. 'I don't see how I 'm goin' to hold on,' said
Marthy. 'Seems as if I would hev my hands full keepin' my things from
blowin' away.' 'Don't worry about yourself, Marthy,' sez I, 'for if
you'll look after your things, I kind o' calc'late I'll manage not to
lose _you_ on the way.' Dear Marthy--seems as if I could see you now,
with your tangled hair a-blowin' in the wind, your eyes all bright and
sparklin', an' your cheeks as red as apples. Seems, too, as if I could
hear you laughin' an' callin', jist as you did as I toiled up the old
New England hill that Chris'mas mornin'--a callin': 'Joel, Joel,
Joel--ain't ye ever comin', Joel?' But the hill is long and steep,
Marthy, an' Joel ain't the boy he used to be; he 's old, an' gray, an'
feeble, but there 's love an' faith in his heart, an' they kind o' keep
him totterin' tow'rds the voice he hears a-callin': 'Joel, Joel, Joel!'"

"I know--I see it all," murmured Santa Claus, very softly.

"Oh, that was so long ago," sighed Joel; "so very long ago! And I've
had no Chris'mas since--only once, when our little one--Marthy's an'
mine--you remember him, Santa Claus?"

"Yes," said Santa Claus, "a toddling little boy with blue eyes--"

"Like his mother," interrupted Joel; "an' he was like her, too--so
gentle an' lovin', only we called him Joel, for that was my father's
name and it kind o' run in the fam'ly. He wa' n't more 'n three years
old when you came with your Chris'mas presents for him, Santa Claus.
We had told him about you, and he used to go to the chimney every night
and make a little prayer about what he wanted you to bring him. And
you brought 'em, too--a stick-horse, an' a picture-book, an' some
blocks, an' a drum--they 're on the shelf in the closet there, and his
little Chris'mas stockin' with 'em--I 've saved 'em all, an' I 've
taken 'em down an' held 'em in my hands, oh, so many times!"

"But when I came again," said Santa Claus--

"His little bed was empty, an' I was alone. It killed his