Santa Claus and Little Billie - John Kendrick Bangs

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by voting yes by April 21st. Help put our elections back on a level playing field and let

voters decide not politicians. Vote yes by April 21st. Paid for by Virginians for fair elections.

Santa Claus and Little Belly by John Kendrick Bangs. One, he was only a little bit of a

chap and so when for the first time in his life he came into close contact with the endless

current of human things. It was as hard for him to stay put as for some wayward little atom of

flotsam and jetsam to keep from tossing about in the surging tides of the sea. His mother had left

them there in the big toy shop with instructions not to move until she came back while she went off

to do some mysterious errand. She thought no doubt that with so many beautiful things on every side

to delight his eye and hold his attention strict obedience to her commands would not be hard.

But alas the good lady reckoned not upon the magnetic power of attraction of all those lovely

objects in detail. She saw them only as a massive wonders which in all probability would so dazzle

his vision as to leave him incapable of movement. But Little Belly was not so indifferent as all that.

When a phonograph at the other end of the shop began to rattle off melodious tunes and funny jokes

in spite of the instructions he had received, Luffy patterned as fast as his little legs would carry

him to investigate. After that, forgetful of everything else, finding himself caught in the constantly

moving stream of Christmas shoppers, he was born along in the resisteless current until he found

himself at last out upon the street, alone, free, and independent. It was great fun at first.

By and by, however, the afternoon waned, the sun as if anxious to hurry along the dawn of

Christmas day sank early to bed, and the electric lights along the darkening highway began to pop

out here and there, like so many merry-stars come down to earth to celebrate the gladest time of

all the year. Little Belly began to grow tired, and then he thought of his mama and tried to find

the shop where he had promised to remain quiet until her return. Up and down the street he wandered

until his little legs grew weary, but there was no sign of the shop, nor of the beloved face he was

seeking. Once again, and yet once again after that did the little fella traverse that crowded

highway, his tears getting harder and harder to keep back. And then, joy of joys,

whom should he see walking slowly along the sidewalk but Santa Claus himself?

The saint was strangely decorated with two queer-looking boards, with big red letters on them,

hung over his back and chest, but there was still that same kindly grey-bearded face,

the red cloak with the fur trimmings, and the same dear old cap that the children's friend had

always worn in the pictures of him that Little Belly had seen. With a glad cry of happiness,

Little Belly ran to meet the old fellow and put his hand gently into that of the saint.

He thought it very strange that Santa Claus's hand should be so red and cold and rough,

and so chapped, but he was not in any mood to be critical. He had been faced to face with a very

disagreeable situation. Then, when things had seemed blackest to him, everything had come right

again, and he was too glad to take more than a passing notice of anything strange and odd.

Santa Claus, of course, would recognize him at once, and would know just how to take him back to

his mama at home, wherever that might be. Little Belly had never thought to inquire just where

home was. All he knew was that it was a big grey stonehouse on a long street somewhere,

with the tall iron railing in front of it, not far from the park.

Howdy-do, Mr. Santa Claus, said Little Belly, as the other's hand unconsciously tightened over his own.

By howdy-do, kitty, replied the old fellow, glancing down at his new found friend with surprise gleaming

from his deep-set eyes. Where did you drop from? Oh, I'm out, said Little Belly bravely.

My mama left me a little while ago while she went off about something, and I guess I got

losted. Fairly likely to return the old saint with a smile. Little two by four fellers are apt to

get losted when they start in on their own hook, especially days like these with such crowds hustling

around. But it's all right now, suggested Little Belly hopefully. I'm found again, ain't I?

No, yes, indeedy. You're found all right, kitty, Santa Claus agreed.

And pretty soon you'll take me home again, won't you, said the child.

Sherest thing you know, answered Santa Claus, looking down upon the bright but tired little face with

the comforting smile. What might your address be? My what? asked Little Belly. Your address repeated

Santa Claus. Where do you live? The answer was a ringing peel of childish laughter. As if you didn't

know that, cried Little Belly giggling. Ha, ha, laughed Santa Claus. Can't fool you, can I?

It would be funny if after keeping an eye on you all these years since you was a baby,

I didn't know where you lived, eh? Have a funny, agreed Little Belly. But tell me, Mr. Santa Claus,

what sort of boy do you think I've been? He added with a shade of anxiety in his voice.

Pretty good. Pretty good, Santa Claus answered, turning in his steps and walking back again along

the path he had just traveled. Which Little Belly thought was rather a strange thing to do.

You've got more white marks than black ones. A good many more. A hundred and fifty times as many

kitty. Fact is, you're all right. Way up among the good boys. Though once or twice last summer,

you know. Yes, I know, said Little Belly, meekly. But I didn't mean to be naughty.

That's just what I said to the bookkeeper, said Santa Claus. And so we gave you a gray mark.

Half white and half black. That doesn't count either way for against you.

Thank you, sir, said Little Belly. Much comforted. Don't mention it. You are very welcome,

kitty, said Santa Claus, given the youngster's hand a gentle squeeze.

Why do you call me kitty when you know my name is Little Belly? Ask the boy.

That's what I call our good boys, explained Santa Claus. You see, we divide them up into two kinds,

the good boys and the naughty boys. And the good boys we call kitties. And the naughty boys we call

caddies. And there you are. Just then, Little Belly noticed for the first time, the square

boards that Santa Claus was wearing. What are you wearing those boards for, Mr. Santa Claus?

He asked. If the lad had looked closely enough, he would have seen a very unhappy look come into

the old man's face. But there was nothing of it in his answer. All those are my newfangled back

and chest protect us, my lad. He replied. Sometimes we have bitter winds blowing at Christmas,

and I have to be ready for them. And when do for Santa Claus are come down with the sneezes at

Christmas time, you know, no, sorry. This board on front keeps the wind off my chest,

and the one behind keeps me from getting rheumatism in my back. They are a great protection against

the weather. I have to tell my papa about them," said Little Belly, much impressed by the simplicity

of this arrangement. We have a glass board in the front of our automobile to keep the wind off

Henry. He's our shuffer. But papa wears a fur coat, and sometimes he says the wind goes right

through that. He'll be glad to know about these boards. I shouldn't wonder, smiled Santa Claus.

They aren't very becoming, but they are mighty useful. You might save up your pennies and

give your papa a pair like him for his next Christmas. Santa Claus laughed, as he spoke.

But there was a catch in his voice, which Little Belly was too young to notice.

"'You thought Letterth printed there,' said the boy, peering around in front of his companion at

the lettering on the board. What did they spell? You know, I haven't learned to read yet."

"'And why should you know how to read at your age,' said Santa Claus.

"'You're not more than five last month,' said Little Belly proudly. It was such a great age.

"'My, as old as that,' cried Santa Claus.

"'Well, you are growing fast. Why, it don't seem more than yesterday that you was a pink cheap

the babby, and here you are big enough to be out alone. That's more than my little boy is able to do.'

Santa Claus shivered slightly, and Little Belly was surprised to see a tear glistening in his eye.

"'Why, have you got a little boy?' he asked.

"'Yes, Little Belly,' said the saint.

"'A poor white face, little chap, about a year older than you, who?'

"'Well, never mind, Kitty. Ace of Kitty, too.'

"'Let's talk about something else, sir. I'll have icicles in my eyes.'

"'You didn't tell me what those letters on the board spell,' said Little Belly.

"'Mary Christmas to everybody,' said Santa Claus.

"'I have the words printed there so that everybody can see them, and if I miss wishing anybody

on Mary Christmas, he'll know I meant it just the same. Here, awful kind, aren't you,' said Little Belly,

squeezing his friend's hand affectionately. It must make you very happy to be able to be so kind to

everybody.'

2. Santa Claus made no reply to this remark, beyond giving a very deep sigh,

which Little Belly chose to believe was evidence of a great inward content.

They walked on now in silence. For Little Belly was beginning to feel almost too tired to talk,

and Santa Claus seemed to be thinking of something else. Finally, however, the little fellow spoke.

"'I guess I'd like to go home now, Mr. Santa Claus,' he said.

"'I'm tired, and I'm afraid my mama will be wondering where I've gone to.'

"'That's so, my little man,' said Santa Claus, stopping short in his walk up and down the block.

"'No mother will be worried for a fact, and your father, too. I know how I'd feel if my little boy got

lost it and hadn't come home at dinner time.'

"'I don't believe you know where you live, though. Now, honest, come. Fess up, Billy. You don't know

where you live, do you?'

"'I guess I do,' said Little Belly. It's in the big grey stone house with the iron

friends in front of it, near the park.'

"'That's easy enough,' laughed Santa Claus nervously.

"'Anybody could say he lived in a grey stone house with a fence around it near the park,

but you don't know what street it's on. No other number, either. A bet 14 wooden giraffes against

a monkey on a stick.' No, I don't,' said Little Belly, frankly. But I know the number in her

order-mobile. It's N-Y.'

"'Find,' laughed Santa Claus. If you really were lost, it would be a great help to know that,

but not being lost as you ain't, too, why, of course we can get along without it.

"'It's queer, you don't know your last name, though. I do too know my last name,'

blurted Little Belly. "'It's the Billy. That's the last one that gave me anyhow.'

Santa Claus reflected for a moment, eyeing the child anxiously.

"'I don't believe you even know your papa's name,' he said.

"'Yes, I do,' said Little Belly indignantly. His name is Mr. Harrison.'

"'Well, you are a smart little chap,' cried Santa Claus gleefully.

"'You got it right the very first time, didn't ya? I really didn't think you knew.'

"'But I don't believe you know where your papa keeps his big shop, where he makes all those nice

cakes and cookies you eat.'

No, he began to laugh again. You can't fool me, Mr. Santa Claus,' he said.

"'I know my papa don't keep a big shop, just as well as you do. My papa owns a bank.'

Splendid, made of tin, I suppose, with a nice little hole at the top to drop pennies into,'

said Santa Claus. No, it ain't either,' retorted Little Belly.

"'It's a made of stone, and it has more than a million windows in it.

I went down there with my mom at the papa's office the other day, so I guess I don't know.'

"'Well, I should say so,' said Santa Claus. Nobody better.'

"'By the way, Billy, what does your mama call your papa? Billy, like you,' he added.

"'Oh, no indeed,' returned Little Belly. She calls him papa.

Except once in a while when he gets going away, then she says, goodbye, Tom.'

"'Fine again,' said Santa Claus, blowing upon his fingers for, now that the sun had completely

disappeared over in the west, it was getting very cold.'

Tom is Harrison Banker, he muttered to himself.

What, with the telephone book and the city directory, I guess we can find our way home with Little Belly.

"'Do you think we can go now, Mr. Santa Claus?' asked Little Belly.

For the cold was beginning to cut through his little coat,

and the sandman had started to scatter the sleepy seeds all around.

"'Yes, so re-returns, Santa Claus, promptly. Right away off now, instantly at once.

I'm afraid I can't get my reindeer here in time to take us up to the house, but we can go in the

cars. Hmm, I don't know whether we can or not come to think of it. Do you happen to have

ten cents in your pocket?' Santa added with an embarrassed air.

"'You see, I've left my pocketbook in the sleigh with my toy pack. Besides,

mine is only toy money, and they won't take that on the cars.'

"'I got twenty-five cents,' said Little Belly proudly, as he dug his way down into his pocket and

brought the shining silver piece to light. You can have it if you want it!'

"'Thank you,' said Santa Claus, taking the Prophet coin.

"'We'll start home right away, only come in here first while I telephone to Santaville,

telling the folks where I am.' He led the little fellow into a public telephone station

where he eagerly scanned the names in the book. At last it was found.

Thomas Harrison, seven-six-five-four-a-plaza. And then, in the seclusion of the telephone booth,

Santa Claus sent the gladdest of all Christmas messages over the wire to two distracted parents.

"'I have found your boy wandering in the street. He is safe, and I will bring him home right away.'

Three. Fifteen minutes later, there might have been seen the strange spectacle of a

foot-sourced Santa Claus, leading a sleepy little boy up fifth avenue to a cross-street, which

shall be nameless. The boy vanily endeavored to persuade his companion to come in and meet Mama.'

"'Na, Billy,' the old man replied sadly. I must hurry back. You see, Kitty, this is my busy day.

Besides, I never go into a house except through the chimney. I wouldn't know how to behave

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But it was not to be as Santa Claus willed. For little Billy's papa and his mama and his brothers

and sisters and the butler in the housemaids and two or three policemen were waiting at the front door

when they arrived. Aha, said one of the police, ceasing Santa Claus roughly by the arm. Wave landed

y'all right wherever you've been with this boy. You let him alone cried little Billy with more

courage than he had ever expected to show in the presence of a policeman. He's a friend of mine.

That's right, officer. I said little Billy's father. Let him alone. I haven't entered any

complaints against this man. But you want to look out for these fellas, Mr. Harrison, return the

officer. First thing you know, that'd be making a trade of this sort, I think. I'm no grafter.

Retorted Santa Claus indignantly. I found a little chab wandering along the street and as soon as

I was able to locate where he lived, I brought him home. That's all there is to it. He knew where I

lived all along, laughed little Billy. Only he pretended he didn't, just to see if I knew.

You see, sir, said the officer. It won't do him any harm to let him cool his heels.

It's far better that he should warm them, officer," said Mr. Harrison kindly.

And he can do that here. Come in, my man, he added. Turning to Santa Claus with a grateful smile.

Just for a minute anyhow. Mrs. Harrison will wish to thank you for bringing our boy back to us.

We have had a terrible afternoon.

"'That's all right, sir,' said Santa Claus modestly. It wasn't anything, sir. I didn't really

find him. It was him, as found me. He took me for the real thing, I guess.'

Nevertheless, Santa Claus, led by little Billy's persistent father, went into the house.

Now that the boy could see him in the full glare of many electric lights,

his first did not seem the most gorgeous things in the world. When the flapping front of his red

jacket flew open, the child was surprised to see how ragged was the thin gray coated covered.

And as for the good old saint's comfortable stomach, a strange to say, it was not.

"'I wish you all a merry Christmas,' faulted Santa Claus.

"'But I really must be going, sir. Nonsense,' cried Mr. Harrison,

not until you've got rid of this chill, and I can't stay, sir,' said Santa Claus.

"'I'll lose my job if I do. Well, what if you do? I'll give you a better one,' said the banker.

"'I can't. I can't,' faulted the man. I've got a little Billy of my own at home waiting for me,

sir. If I hadn't,' he added fiercely.

"'Do you suppose I'd be doing this?' he pointed at the painted boards and shuttered.

"'It's him that's kept me from—from the river,' he muttered hoarsely.

And then this dispenser of happiness to so many millions of people all the world over sank into a chair

and covering his face with his hands, wept like a child.

"'I guess Santa Claus is tired, Papa,' said Little Billy, snuggling up closely to the old fellow

and taking hold of his hands sympathetically. He's been walking a lot today.'

"'Yes, my son,' said Mr. Harrison gravely. These are very busy times for Santa Claus,

and I guess that, as he still has a hard night ahead of him, James had better ring up Henry and

tell him to bring the car around right away so that we may take him back to his little boy.

We'll have to lend him a fur coat to keep the wind off, too, for it is a bitter night."

"'Oh,' said Little Billy.

"'I haven't told you about these boards,' he wears. He has them to keep the wind off and they're

fine, Papa,' Little Billy pointed to the two sign boards which Santa Claus had leaned against the

wall. "'He says he uses them on cold nights,' the lad went on.

"'They're writing on them, too. Do you know what it says?'

"'Yes,' said Mr. Harrison, glancing at the boards.

"'It says if you want a good Christmas dinner for a quarter, go to Smithers Cafe.'

Little Billy roared with laughter.

"'Papa's trying to fool me. This is you, Dave, when you pretend to not know where I live,

Santa Claus,' he said, looking up into the old fella's face, his own continent's brimming over with

Murth. You might as well think he can't read, though, with the lad at it hastily. He's only joking.'

"'Uh, no, indeed. I shouldn't have thought that,' replied Santa Claus, smiling through his tears.

"'I've been joking, have I,' said Little Billy's Papa.

"'Well, then, Mr. Billy, I'm suppose you inform me what it says on those boards.'

"'Merry Christmas to everybody,' said Little Billy proudly.

"'I couldn't read it myself, but he told me what it said. He has a printed there so that if he

misses saying it to anybody, no, he means it just the same.'

"'By Joe, Mr. Santa Claus,' cried Little Billy's Papa, grasping the old man warmly by the hand.

"'I owe you ten million apologies. I haven't believed in you for many a long year,

but now, sir, I take it all back. You do exist, and by the great horn spoon, you are the real thing.'"

Four. Little Billy had the satisfaction of acting as host to Santa Claus at a good luscious dinner,

which Santa Claus must have enjoyed very much, because when explaining why he was so hungry,

it came out that the poor old chap had been so busy all day that he had not had time to get any

lunch. No, not even one of those good dinners at Smithers Cafe, to which Little Billy's father

had jokingly referred. And after dinner, Henry came with the automobile, and bidding everybody good

night, Santa Claus and Little Billy's Papa went out of the house together.

Christmas morning dawned, and Little Billy awoke from wonderful dreams of rich gifts

and of extraordinary adventures with his new found friend to find the reality quite as splendid

as the dream things. Later, what was his delight when a small boy, not much older than himself,

a pale, thin, but playful little fellow arrived at the house to spend the day with him,

bringing with him a letter from Santa Claus himself. This was what the letter said.

Dear Little Billy, you must not tell anybody except your papa and your mama,

but the little boy who brings you this letter is my little boy, and I am going to let you have him

for a playfeller for Christmas Day. Treat him kindly for his papa's sake, and if you think his

papa is worth loving, tell him so. Do not forget me, Little Billy. I shall see you off in

the future, but I doubt you will see me. I am not going to return to twenty-third street again,

but I'll continue my work in the land of you all in the palace of Goodwill,

whose beautiful windows look out upon the homes of all good children.

Goodbye, Little Billy, and the happiest of happy Christmases to you and all of yours,

affectionately, Santa Claus. When Little Billy's mama read this to him that Christmas morning,

a stray little tear ran down her cheek and fell upon Little Billy's hand.

Why, what are you crying for, mama?" he asked, with happiness, my dear little son,

his mother answered. I was afraid yesterday that I might have lost my little boy forever,

but now you have an extra one thrown in for Christmas, haven't you, since Little Billy,

taking his new playmate by the hand. The visitor smiled back at him with a smile so sweet

that anybody might have guessed that he was the son of Santa Claus.

As for the latter, Little Billy has not seen him again, but down at his father's bank there is

a new messenger named John, who has a voice so like Santa Claus's voice that whenever

Little Billy goes down there in the motor to ride home at night with his papa, he runs into the

bank and has a long talk with him, just for the pleasure of pretending that it is Santa Claus he

is talking to. Indeed, the voice is so like that once a sudden and strange idea flashed across

Little Billy's mind. Have you ever been the 23rd Street, John? He asked.

23rd Street replied the messenger, scratching his head as if very much puzzled.

What's that?

Why, it's a street, said Little Billy rather vaguely.

Well, to tell you the truth, Billy, said John. I've heard tell of 23rd Street,

and they say it is a very beautiful and interesting spot.

But you know, I don't get much chance to travel. I've been too busy on my life to go abroad.

A broad, roared Little Billy, grinning at John's utterly absurd mistake.

So, I 23rd Street ate a broad, it's uptown near, near 22nd Street.

Really? Returned John, evidently tremendously surprised.

Well, well, well, who'd have thought that?

Well, if that's the case, sometime when I get a week off, I'll have to go and spend my vacation there.

From which Little Billy concluded that his suspicion that John might be Santa Claus in disguise

was entirely without foundation, in fact.

End of Santa Claus and Little Billy by John Kendrick Bings.

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