together before you an' Bob goes away again."

"In th' mornin' I'll have t' be goin' t' th' Post wi' th' dogs an'
komatik t' get some things. Is there anything yer wantin', Mary?" he
asked his wife.

"We has plenty o' flour an' molasses an' tea; but," she suggested,
"th' next day's Christmas, Richard."

"Aye, I'm thinkin' o' un an' I may be seein' Santa Claus t' tell un
what a rare fine maid Emily's been an' ask un not t' be forgettin'
she. He's been wonderful forgetful not t' be comin' round last
Christmas an' th' Christmas before I'll have t' be remindin' he."

Emily looked up wistfully.

"An' you are thinkin' he'll have _time_ t' come here wi' all th'
places t' go to? Oh, I'm wishin' he would!"

"I'll just make un--I'll just _make_ un," said her father. "I'll not
let un pass my maid _every_ time."

Emily was awake early the next morning--before daybreak. Her father
was about to start for the Post, and the dogs were straining and
jumping in the traces. She knew this because she could hear their
expectant howls,--and the dogs never howled just like that under any
other circumstances. Then she heard "hoo-ett--hoo-ett" as he gave them
the word to be off and, in the distance, as he turned them down the
brook to the right his shouts of "ouk! ouk! ouk!--ouk! ouk! ouk!"

It was a day of delightful expectancy. Tomorrow would be Christmas and
perhaps--perhaps--Santa Claus would come! She chattered all day to her
mother about it, wondering if he would really come and what he would
bring her.

Finally, just at nightfall she heard her father shouting at the dogs
outside and presently he came in carrying his komatik box, his beard
weighted with ice and his clothing white with hoar frost.

"Well," announced he, as he put down the box and pulled his adikey
over his head, "I were seein' Santa Claus th' day an' givin' he a rare
scoldin' for passin' my maid by these two year--a _rare_ scoldin'--an'
I'm thinkin' he'll not be passin' un by _this_ Christmas. He'll not be
wantin' _another_ such scoldin'."

"Oh!" said Emily, "'twere too bad t' scold un. He must be havin' a
wonderful lot o' places t' go to an' he's not deservin' t' be scolded
now. He's sure doin' th' best he can--I _knows_ he's doin' th' best he
can."

"He were deservin' of un, an' more. He were passin' my maid _two_ year
runnin' an' I can't be havin' that," insisted the father as he hung up
his adikey and stooped to open the komatik box, from which he
extr