The Errors of Santa Claus - Stephen Leacock copy

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The Errors of Santa Claus by Stephen Leecock.

It was Christmas Eve.

The rounds who lived in the adjoining house had been dining with the Joneses.

Brown and Jones were sitting over wine and walnuts at the table.

The others had gone upstairs.

What are you giving to your boy for Christmas, asked Brown?

A train said Jones, new kind of thing, automatic.

Let's have a look at it, said Brown.

Jones fetched a parcel from the sideboard and began unwrapping it.

And genius thing, isn't it, he said, goes on its own rails.

Queer how kids love to play with trains, isn't it?

Yes, a scented brown.

How are the rails fixed?

Wait, I'll show you, said Jones.

Just help me to shove these dinner things aside and roll back the claw.

There, see, you lay the rails like that and fasten them at the end, so, oh yes, I catch

on, makes a grade, doesn't it?

Just the thing to amuse a child, isn't it?

I got Willie a toy airplane.

I know, they're great.

I got Edwin one on his birthday, but I thought I'd get him a train this time.

I told him Santa Claus was going to bring him something all together new this time.

Edwin, of course, believes in Santa Claus absolutely.

Say, look at this locomotive, would you?

It has a spring coiled up inside the firebox.

Mind her up, said Brown, with great interest, let's see your go.

All right, said Jones, just pile up two or three plates or something to lean the end of

the rails on.

There, notice the way it buzzes before it starts?

Isn't that a great thing for a kid, huh?

Yes, said Brown, and say, see this little string to pull the whistle.

By gad it, too, just like real.

Now then, Brown, Jones went on, you hitch on those cars, and I'll start her.

I'll be engineer, huh?

Half an hour later, Brown and Jones were still playing trains on the dining room table.

But their wives upstairs in the drawing room hardly noticed their absence.

They were too much interested.

Oh, I think it's perfectly sweet, said Mrs. Brown, just the loveliest doll I've seen

in years.

I must get one like it for Ovena.

Won't Clarice be perfectly enchanted?

Yes, answered Mrs. Jones, and then she'll have all the fun of arranging the dresses.

Children love that so much.

Look, there are three little dresses with the doll.

And they cute, all cut out and ready to stitch together.

Oh, how perfectly lovely, exclaimed Mrs. Brown, I think the move one would suit the doll

best, don't you?

With such golden hair, only don't you think it would make it much nicer to turn back the

collar so, and to put a little band so?

What a good idea, said Mrs. Jones, do let's try it.

Just wait, I'll get a needle in a minute.

I'll tell Clarice that Santa Claus sewed it himself.

The child believes in Santa Claus absolutely.

And half an hour later Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Brown were so busy stitching dolls' clothes

that they could not hear the roaring of the little train up and down the dining table

and had no idea what the four children were doing.

Nor did the children miss their mothers.

Then the auntie Edwin Jones was saying to little Willie Brown, as they sat in Edwin's

bedroom, a hundred in a box with cork tips and sea and amber mouthpiece that fits into

a little case at the side.

Good present for Dad, huh?

Fine, said Willie appreciatively, I'm giving father cigars.

I know, I thought of cigars too, men always like cigars and cigarettes.

You can't go wrong on them.

Say, would you like to try one or two of these cigarettes?

We can take them from the bottom.

You'll like them, they're Russian, way ahead of Egyptian.

Thanks, answered Willie, I'd like one immensely.

I only started smoking last spring on my twelfth birthday.

I think the fellers are fool to begin smoking cigarettes too soon, don't you?

It stunts him.

I waited till I was twelve.

Me too, said Edwin, as they lighted their cigarettes.

In fact, I wouldn't buy them now if it weren't for Dad.

I simply had to give him something from Santa Claus.

He believes in Santa Claus, absolutely, you know.

And while this was going on, Clarisse was showing little Ovena the absolutely lovely little

bridge set that she got for her mother.

Aren't these markers perfectly charming, said Ovena?

And don't you love this little Dutch design?

Or is it Flemish darling?

Dutch, said Clarisse, isn't it quaint?

And aren't these the dearest little things for putting the money in when you play?

I needn't have got them with it, they'd have sold the rest separately, but I think it's

too utterly slow playing without money, don't you?

Oh, a vulnerable, shuttered Ovena, but your mama never plays for money, does she?

Mama, oh, gracious no, mama's far too slow for that, but I shall tell her that Santa

Claus insisted on putting in the little money boxes.

I suppose she believes in Santa Claus, just as my mama does.

Oh, absolutely, said Clarisse, and added, what if we play a little game?

With a double dummy, the French way, or Norwegian scat, if you like, that only needs two.

All right, agreed Ovena, and in a few minutes they were deep in a game of cards, with a little

pile of pocket money beside them.

About half an hour later, all the members of the two families were again in the drawing

room.

But of course, nobody said anything about the presence.

In any case, they were all too busy looking at the beautiful big Bible with maps in it,

that the Joneses had brought to give to grandfather.

They all agreed that with the help of it, grandfather could hand up any place in Palestine

in a moment, day or night.

But upstairs, away upstairs in a sitting room of his own, grandfather Jones was looking

with an affection that I, at the presence that stood beside him.

There was a beautiful whiskey decanter with silver filigree outside, and whiskey inside,

for Jones, and for the little boy, a big nickel-plated juicer.

Later on, far in the night, the person or the influence, or whatever it is called Santa

Claus, took all the presence and placed them in the people's stockings.

And being blind, as he always has been, he gave the wrong things to the wrong people.

In fact, he gave them a just as indicated above.

But the next day, in the course of Christmas morning, the situation straightened itself out,

just as it always does.

Indeed, by ten o'clock, brown and Jones were playing with the train, and Mrs. Brown and

Mrs. Jones were making dolls close, and the boys were smoking cigarettes, and Clarice

and Olvina were playing cards for their pocket money.

And upstairs, away up, grandfather was drinking whiskey and playing the juice harp.

And so, Christmas, just as it always does, turned out all right after all.

End of the Errors of Santa Claus by Stephen Leecock.

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