"
The tenements to which the boy led him were of brick, and reasonably
clean. Nearly every window showed some sign of Christmas.
The tree-bearer led the way into a dark hall, up one flight--Mr. Carter
assisting with the tree--and down another dark hall, to a door, on
which he knocked. A woman opened it.
"Here's the tree!" said the boy, in a loud whisper. "Is Bill's door
shut?"
Mr. Carter stepped forward out of the darkness. "I beg your pardon,
madam," he said. "I met this young man in the street, and he asked me
to come here and see a playmate of his who is, I understand, an
invalid. But if I am intruding--"
"Come in," said the woman, heartily, throwing the door open. "Bill will
be glad to see you, sir."
The philanthropist stepped inside.
The room was decently furnished and clean. There was a sewing machine
in the corner, and in both the windows hung wreaths of holly. Between
the windows was a cleared space, where evidently the tree, when
decorated, was to stand.
"Are all the things here?" eagerly demanded the tree-bearer.
"They're all here, Jimmy," answered Mrs. Bailey. "The candy just came."
"Say," cried the boy, pulling off his red flannel mittens to blow on
his fingers, "won't it be great? But now Bill's got to see Santa Claus.
I'll just go in and tell him, an' then, when I holler, mister, you come
on, and pretend you're Santa Claus.
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