The children had no misgivings and pounced upon the
baskets and with, exclamations of delight drew out such articles
as they could lift.
"I can't understand it," said the mother, bewildered and almost
frightened.
"Why, mamma, it's as plain as day," cried Jamie. "Didn't he look
just like the pictures of Santa Claus--white beard and white
eyebrows? Oh, mamma, mamma, here is a great paper of red-cheeked
apples!" and he and Susie tugged at it until they dragged it over
the side of the basket, when the bottom of the bag came out, and
the fruit flecked the floor with red and gold. Oh, the bliss of
picking up those apples; of comparing one with another; of running
to the mother and asking which was the biggest and which the
reddest and most beautifully streaked!
"There must have been some mistake," the poor woman kept murmuring
as she examined the baskets and found how liberal and varied was
the supply, "for who could or would have been so kind?"
"Why, mommie," said little Sue, reproachfully, "Santa Claus
brought 'em. Haven't you always told us that Santa Claus liked to
make us happy?"
The long-exiled father felt that he could restrain himself but a
few moments longer, and he was glad to see that the rest of his
purchases were at the door.
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