More than all that, there she was on the
hearth-rug herself, just as Santa had left her, and that was the best
proof of all.
The trouble was, Daddy himself had never been a Little Girl, so he
couldn't tell anything about it, but we know she hadn't been dreaming,
now, don't we, my dears?
VII. "A CHRISTMAS MATINEE"*
*This story was first published in the Youth's Companion, vol. 74.
MRS. M.A.L. LANE
It was the day before Christmas in the year 189-. Snow was falling
heavily in the streets of Boston, but the crowd of shoppers seemed
undiminished. As the storm increased, groups gathered at the corners
and in sheltering doorways to wait for belated cars; but the holiday
cheer was in the air, and there was no grumbling. Mothers dragging
tired children through the slush of the streets; pretty girls hurrying
home for the holidays; here and there a harassed-looking man with
perhaps a single package which he had taken a whole morning to
select--all had the same spirit of tolerant good-humor.
"School Street! School Street!" called the conductor of an electric
car. A group of young people at the farther end of the car started to
their feet. One of them, a young man wearing a heavy fur-trimmed coat,
addressed the conductor angrily.
"I said, 'Music Hall,' didn't I?" he demanded. "Now we've got to walk
back in the snow because of your stupidity!"
"Oh, never mind, Frank!" one of the girls interposed.
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