losis bugs around. He should not to
have gone into such a chicken coop with so many bugs busting up all
over. He had a right to have fumigated himself, once. And now he
ain't. He's all eat up, on the hoof, bones, and feet and all. And such
a kind man, too."

The thin Santa Claus frowned. He had half an idea that Mrs. Gratz was
fooling with him, and when he spoke it was crisply.

"Now, see here," he said, "last night somebody broke into your chicken
coop and stole all your chickens. I know that. And he's been stealing
chickens all around this town, and all around this part of the
country, too, and I know that. And this stealing has got to stop. I've
got to catch that thief. And to catch him I've got to have a clue. A
clue is something he has left around, or dropped, where he was
stealing. Now, did that chicken thief drop any clues in your chicken
yard? That's what I want to know--did he drop any clues?"

"Mebby, if he dropped some cloos, those toober-chlosis bugs eat them
up," suggested Mrs. Gratz. "They eats bones and fedders; mebby they
eats cloos, too."

"Now, ain't that smart?" sneered the thin Santa Claus. "Don't you
think you're funny? But I'll tell you the clue I'm looking for. Did
that thief drop a pocketbook, or anything like that?"

"Oh, a pocketbook!" said Mrs. Gratz. "How much should be in such a
pocketbook, mebby?"

"Nine hundred dollars," said the thin Santa Claus promptly.

"Goodness!" exclaimed Mrs. Gratz. "So much money all in one cloos!
Come out to the chicken yard once; I'll help hunt for cloos, too."

The thin Santa Claus stood a minute looking doubtfully at Mrs. Gratz.
Her face was large and placid and unemotional.

"Well," he said with a sigh, "it ain't much use, but I'll try it
again."

When he had gone, after another close search of the chicken yard and
coop, Mrs. Gratz returned to her friend, Mrs. Flannery.

"Purty soon I don't belief any more in Santy Claus at all," she said.
"Purty soon I have more beliefs in chicken thiefs than in Santy Claus.
Yet a while I beliefs in him, but, one more of those come-agains, and
I don't."

"He'll not be comin' back any more," said Mrs. Flannery positively.
"I'm wonderin' he came at all, and the jail so handy. All ye have t'
do is t' call a cop."

"Sure!" said Mrs. Gratz. "But it is not nice I should put Santy Claus
in jail. Such a liberal Santy Claus, too."

"Have it yer own way, ma'am," said Mrs. Flannery. "I'll own 'tis some
different whin