the ceiling was low, a marvellous doll,
with real hair and with eyes that could open and shut, looked down
with arms wide open to take Kate to its soft wax heart. Under the
branches of the tree browsed every animal that went into and came out
of Noah's Ark, and there were glorious games of Messenger Boy and
Three Bad Bears, and honey-cakes and candy apples, and a little
yellow-bird in a cage, and what not? It was glorious. And when the
tea-kettle began to sing, skilfully manipulated by Santa Claus's
assistant, who nominally was known in Mulberry Street as Detective
Sergeant Murphy, it was just too lovely for anything. The baby's eyes
grew wider and wider, and Kate's were shining with happiness, when in
the midst of it all she suddenly stopped and said:--

"But where is papa? Why don't he come?"

Santa Claus gave a little start at the sudden question, but pulled
himself together right away.

"Why, yes," he said, "he must have got lost. Now you are all right we
will just go and see if we can find him. Mrs. McCarthy here next door
will help you keep the kettle boiling and the lights burning till we
come back. Just let me hear that sheep baa once more. That's right! I
bet we'll find papa." And out they went.

An hour later, while Mr. ----, the Magistrate, and his good wife were
viewing with mock dismay the array of little stockings at their hearth
in their fine up-town house, and talking of the adventure of Mrs.
----with the pickpocket, there came a ring at the door-bell and the
Captain of the detectives was ushered in. What he told them I do not
know, but this I do know, that when he went away the honorable
Magistrate went with him, and his wife waved good-by to them from the
stoop with wet eyes as they drove away in a carriage hastily ordered
up from a livery stable. While they drove down town, the Magistrate's
wife went up to the nursery and hugged her sleeping little ones, one
after the other, and tear-drops fell upon their warm cheeks that had
wiped out the guilt of more than one sinner before, and the children
smiled in their sleep. They say among the simple-minded folk of
far-away Denmark that then they see angels in their dreams.

The carriage stopped in Mulberry Street, in front of Police
Headquarters, and there was great scurrying among the reporters, for
now they were sure of their "case." But no "prominent citizen" came
out, made free by the Magistrate, who opened court in the Captain's
office. Only a rou