FullReads

Then he felt himself being lifted out of the automobile, and he heard voices.

“Is Dick out of the way?” the man asked.

“Yes, he and Dorothy are up in the playroom,” was the answer in a lady’s voice. “You can carry the Horse right up to the attic. He can stay there until Santa Claus is ready to put him under the Christmas tree.”

“All right,” said the man. “As long as Dick and Dorothy are out of the way I’ll bring the Horse in. I don’t want them to see it until Christmas.”

“Dorothy! Dorothy!” thought the Horse to himself. “Where have I heard that name before? I guess some little girl who was called that must have come to the toy department at one time or another. Well, now to see what happens next!”

He felt himself being carried along. Dimly he saw lights, and he felt that he was in a warm place–as warm as the store had been. Then, suddenly, the wrapping papers were taken off him.

“Oh, what a beautiful Rocking Horse!” exclaimed the lady. “I am sure Dick will be pleased. It’s the same one I saw in the store. I am glad you got that one!”

Now the White Rocking Horse was still rather dazed and still rather sleepy from his ride in the cold. Or else perhaps he would have been prepared for the surprise in store for him. Dimly he seemed to remember having heard that lady’s voice before, and dimly he recalled having seen her before.

Then, when his wrapping papers had been taken off, he was set down on the floor near a warm chimney in rather a bare and cheerless attic, and left to himself in the darkness.

But the White Rocking Horse could see in the dark. And when he knew that no human eyes were watching him he spoke, in the make-believe language of toy land.

“Is any one here–any toy to whom I can talk, and with whom I can have a little fun?” asked the White Horse out loud.

There was no answer for a moment, and then a voice said:

“You can talk to me, if you like, but it has been many years since I have had any fun. I am old and broken and covered with dust.”

“Who are you?” asked the White Horse.

“I am an old Jumping Jack,” was the answer. “Here I am, over by the chimney.”

“Oh, now I see you!” said the Horse. “But what is the matter? Are you so very old?”

“Oh, yes, I am almost five Christmases old,” was the answer. “My two legs are broken, and one of my arms, and the spring by which I used to jump is all worn out. So, as I am no longer of any use in this world, I am in the Attic Home. That is the last resting place of broken toys, you know.”

“I have heard of it,” said the Rocking Horse rather sadly. “I hope I am not kept here.”

“Indeed you will not be,” said the old Jumping Jack. “You are new, and are going to enjoy your first Christmas! Ah, how well I remember that! But there is no use worrying. I had some good times, I once made a little boy happy, and now I am content to stay here in the dust and darkness. I shall be glad to know that you are going to have a jolly time.”

“Thank you,” said the White Rocking Horse.

Then he and the old Jumping Jack talked together for some hours in the attic. All the next day they were together, and the White Rocking Horse told how he had once lived in a big department store, and how he had been given a ride in an automobile. And the Jumping Jack told his story, how he used to leap about and cut funny capers.

The next night, after dark, a light was seen gleaming in the attic. The White Rocking Horse and the Jumping Jack had just begun to talk together, and the Horse was showing his friend how fast he could rock, when they had to stop, because the man came up. The lady was with him.