en drawing their hose-carts; no end of
wheel-barrows and bicycles!

Rob screwed his knuckles into his eyes, as a gentle hint, that they
had better not play him any tricks, and then stared with might and
main.

Suddenly Rob thought he heard a footstep on the stairs. Fearing to be
caught, he hid behind a go-cart. No one came, however, and as he felt
rather hungry, he took out the remaining biscuits and had a fine
supper.

Why didn't Santa Claus come?

Rob was really getting sleepy. He stretched out his tired legs, and,
turning one of the woolly sheep on its side, pillowed his curly head
upon it. It was so nice to lie there, looking up at the ceiling hung
with toys, and with the faint hum of voices in his ears. The blue
eyes grew more and more heavy. Rob was fast asleep.

Midnight! The bells rang loud and clear, as if they had great news to
tell the world. What noise is that besides the bells? And look, oh,
look! who is that striding up the room with a great basket on his
back? He has stolen his coat from a polar bear, and his cap, too, I
declare! His boots are of red leather and reach to his knees. His coat
and cap are trimmed with wreaths of holly, bright with scarlet
berries.

Good sir, let us see your face--why! that is the best part of him--so
round and so ruddy, such twinkling eyes, and such a merry look about
those dimples! But see his long white beard--can he be old?

Oh, very, very old! Over nineteen hundred years! Is that not a long
life, little ones? But he has a young heart--this dear old man,--and a
kind one. Can you guess his name? "Hurrah for Santa Claus!"
Right!--the very one.

He put his basket down near Robby, and with his back turned to him
shook the snow from his fur coat. Some of the flakes fell on Rob's
face and roused him from his sleep. Opening his eyes, he saw the white
figure, but did not stir nor cry out, lest the vision should vanish.

But bless his big heart! _he_ had no idea of vanishing till his
night's work was done. He took a large book from his pocket, opened at
the first page, and looked at it very closely.

"Tommy Turner" was written at the top, and just below was a little
map,--yes, there was Tommy's heart mapped out like a country. Part of
the land was marked _good_, part of it _bad_. Here and there were
little flags to point out places where battles had been fought during
the year. Some of them were black and some white; wherever a good
feeling had won the fight, there w