he man. "Well, I ain't a-goin' to fool with you no longer,
Mrs. Gratz. I'm a-goin' to tell you right out what I am and who I am.
I'm a detective of the police, and I'm looking up a mighty bad
character."

"I guess I know right where you find one," said Mrs. Gratz politely.

"Now, don't be funny," said the thin Santa Claus peevishly. "Mebby you
noticed I didn't say nothing when you spoke about that padlock being
busted? Mebby you noticed how careful I looked over your chicken coop,
and how I looked over the fence into the next yard? Well, I won't fool
you. I ain't no chicken-yard inspector, and I ain't no chicken
buyer--them was just my detective disguises. I'm out detecting a
chicken thief--just a plain, ordinary chicken thief--and what I come
for is clues."

"Yes?" said Mrs. Gratz. "And what is it, such cloos? I haven't any
clooses."

The thin Santa Claus seemed provoked.

"Now, look here!" he said. "You may think this is funny, but it
isn't. I have got to catch that chicken thief or I'll lose my job,
and I can't catch him unless I have some clues to catch him with. Now,
didn't you have some chickens stolen last night?"

"Chickens?" asked Mrs. Gratz. "No, I didn't have chickens stolen. Such
toober-chlosis bugs eat them. With fedders, too. And bones. Right off
the hoofs, ain't it a pity?"

It may have been a blush of shame, but it was more like a flush of
anger, that overspread the face of the thin Santa Claus. He stared
hard at the placid German face of Mrs. Gratz, and decided she was too
stupid to mean it--that she was not teasing him.

"You don't catch on," he said. "You see, there ain't any such things
as toober-chlosis bugs. I just made that up as a sort of detective
disguise. Them chickens wasn't eat by no bugs at all--they was stole.
See? A chicken thief come right into the coop and stole them. Do you
think any kind of a bug could pry off a padlock?"

Mrs. Gratz seemed to let this sink into her mind and to revolve there,
and get to feeling at home, before she answered.

"No," she said at length, "I guess not. But Santy Claus could do it.
Such a big, fat man. Sure he could do it."

"Why, you--" began the thin man crossly, and then changed his tone.
"There ain't no such thing as Santy Claus," he said as one might speak
to a child--but even a chicken thief would not tell a child such a
thing, I hope.

"No?" queried Mrs. Gratz sadly. "No Santy Claus? And I was scared of
it, myself, with such toober-ch