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“And all because of this person they call Santa Claus!” exclaimed the
Daemon of Envy. “He is simply ruining our business, and something
must be done at once.”

To this they readily agreed; but what to do was another and more
difficult matter to settle. They knew that Santa Claus worked all
through the year at his castle in the Laughing Valley, preparing the
gifts he was to distribute on Christmas Eve; and at first they
resolved to try to tempt him into their caves, that they might lead
him on to the terrible pitfalls that ended in destruction.

So the very next day, while Santa Claus was busily at work, surrounded
by his little band of assistants, the Daemon of Selfishness came to
him and said:

“These toys are wonderfully bright and pretty. Why do you not keep
them for yourself? It’s a pity to give them to those noisy boys and
fretful girls, who break and destroy them so quickly.”

“Nonsense!” cried the old graybeard, his bright eyes twinkling merrily
as he turned toward the tempting Daemon. “The boys and girls are
never so noisy and fretful after receiving my presents, and if I can
make them happy for one day in the year I am quite content.”

So the Daemon went back to the others, who awaited him in their caves,
and said:

“I have failed, for Santa Claus is not at all selfish.”

The following day the Daemon of Envy visited Santa Claus. Said he:
“The toy shops are full of playthings quite as pretty as those you are
making. What a shame it is that they should interfere with your
business! They make toys by machinery much quicker than you can make
them by hand; and they sell them for money, while you get nothing at
all for your work.”

But Santa Claus refused to be envious of the toy shops.

“I can supply the little ones but once a year–on Christmas Eve,” he
answered; “for the children are many, and I am but one. And as my
work is one of love and kindness I would be ashamed to receive money
for my little gifts. But throughout all the year the children must be
amused in some way, and so the toy shops are able to bring much
happiness to my little friends. I like the toy shops, and am glad to
see them prosper.”

In spite of the second rebuff, the Daemon of Hatred thought he would
try to influence Santa Claus. So the next day he entered the busy
workshop and said:

“Good morning, Santa! I have bad news for you.”

“Then run away, like a good fellow,” answered Santa Claus. “Bad news
is something that should be kept secret and never told.”

“You cannot escape this, however,” declared the Daemon; “for in the
world are a good many who do not believe in Santa Claus, and these you
are bound to hate bitterly, since they have so wronged you.”

“Stuff and rubbish!” cried Santa.

“And there are others who resent your making children happy and who
sneer at you and call you a foolish old rattlepate! You are quite
right to hate such base slanderers, and you ought to be revenged upon
them for their evil words.”

“But I don’t hate ’em!” exclaimed Santa Claus positively. “Such
people do me no real harm, but merely render themselves and their
children unhappy. Poor things! I’d much rather help them any day
than injure them.”

Indeed, the Daemons could not tempt old Santa Claus in any way. On
the contrary, he was shrewd enough to see that their object in
visiting him was to make mischief and trouble, and his cheery laughter
disconcerted the evil ones and showed to them the folly of such an
undertaking. So they abandoned honeyed words and determined to use force.