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“As he passed us and met our earnest gaze, he smiled and nodded so affably, that I was bold enough to cry, ‘Good-evening, Father Christmas!’

“‘Same to you!’ said he, in a high-pitched voice.

“‘Then you are Father Christmas?’ said Patty.

“‘And a Happy New Year,’ was Father Christmas’s reply, which rather put me out. But he smiled in such a satisfactory manner, that Patty went on, ‘You’re very old, aren’t you?’

“‘So I be, miss, so I be,’ said Father Christmas, nodding.

“‘Father says you’re eighteen hundred and thirty years old,’ I muttered.

“‘Aye, aye, to be sure,’ said Father Christmas, ‘I’m a long age.’

“A very long age, thought I, and I added, ‘You’re nearly twice as old as Methuselah, you know,’ thinking that this might not have struck him.

“‘Aye, aye,’ said Father Christmas; but he did not seem to think anything of it. After a pause he held up the tree, and cried, ‘D’ye know what this is, little miss?’

“‘A Christmas-tree,’ said Patty.

“And the old man smiled and nodded.

“I leant over the wall, and shouted, ‘But there are no candles.’

“‘By and by,’ said Father Christmas, nodding as before. ‘When it’s dark they’ll all be lighted up. That’ll be a fine sight!’

“‘Toys too, there’ll be, won’t there?’ screamed Patty.

“Father Christmas nodded his head. ‘And sweeties,’ he added, expressively.

“I could feel Patty trembling, and my own heart beat fast. The thought which agitated us both, was this–‘Was Father Christmas bringing the tree to us?’ But very anxiety, and some modesty also, kept us from asking outright.

“Only when the old man shouldered his tree, and prepared to move on, I cried in despair, ‘Oh, are you going?’

“‘I’m coming back by and by,’ said he.

“‘How soon?’ cried Patty.

“‘About four o’clock,’ said the old man, smiling. ‘I’m only going up yonder.’

“And, nodding, and smiling as he went, he passed away down the lane.

“‘Up yonder.’ This puzzled us. Father Christmas had pointed, but so indefinitely, that he might have been pointing to the sky, or the fields, or the little wood at the end of the Squire’s grounds. I thought the latter, and suggested to Patty that perhaps he had some place underground, like Aladdin’s cave, where he got the candles, and all the pretty things for the tree. This idea pleased us both, and we amused ourselves by wondering what Old Father Christmas would choose for us from his stores in that wonderful hole where he dressed his Christmas-trees.

“‘I wonder, Patty,’ said I, ‘why there’s no picture of Father Christmas’s dog in the book.’ For at the old man’s heels in the lane there crept a little brown and white spaniel, looking very dirty in the snow.

“‘Perhaps it’s a new dog that he’s got to take care of his cave,’ said Patty.

“When we went indoors we examined the picture afresh by the dim light from the passage window, but found no dog there.

“My father passed us at this moment, and patted my head. ‘Father,’ said I, ‘I don’t know, but I do think Old Father Christmas is going to bring us a Christmas-tree to-night.’

“‘Who’s been telling you that?’ said my father. But he passed on before I could explain that we had seen Father Christmas himself, and had had his word for it that he would return at four o’clock, and that the candles on his tree would be lighted as soon as it was dark.

“We hovered on the outskirts of the rooms till four o’clock came. We sat on the stairs and watched the big clock, which I was just learning to read; and Patty made herself giddy with constantly looking up and counting the four strokes, towards which the hour hand slowly moved. We put our noses into the kitchen now and then, to smell the cakes and get warm, and anon we hung about the parlour door, and were most unjustly accused of trying to peep. What did we care what our mother was doing in the parlour?–we who had seen Old Father Christmas himself, and were expecting him back again every moment!