Ho! Ho! Ho! Santa Claus' Reading List

by A. A. Milne

  "Dad is so absorbed he hasn't seen us yet," said Miss Dorothy, making her way to the corner where her father sat. "I wonder if I can steal up behind him and take him unawares." She had almost reached him when he caught sight of her. Down went the book, he jumped up and had her in his arms in a minute. "Come, come," he said, "let us get out where we don't have to whisper. I'll come back later," and he hurried them into the corridor where they could speak freely. He was not a very tall man, but was broad-shouldered and a little inclined to be stout. "Now," he said with a pleasant smile at Marian, "I am willing to bet a cookie, that I can tell who this is. You look like your father, my dear. I knew him very well when I was younger, for I will venture to say you are a Miss Somebody Otway."

  "Her name is Marian," said Patty, "and we are going to be great friends."

  "You are? Isn't it early in the day to make such predictions?" said Mr. Robbins.

  "No." Patty shook her head. "I knew the minute I saw her that we were going to be. I like her, don't you, daddy?"

  "If she is as nice as she looks, I do," was the reply, and Marian felt much pleased at being made of such consequence. She was not used to being noticed and these friendly people pleased her. She wondered if her father would be as cheery, and as affectionately disposed as Mr. Robbins. She would ask this pleasant man about her father some day when they were better acquainted.

  "Now, let me see, what is the programme?" said Mr. Robbins to his elder daughter.

  "We three females are going shopping. I am to buy Patty a coat. Is there anything else I am to get for the family?"

  "Dear me, yes. I have a long list that your Aunt Barbara gave me; she said you would know. I have it somewhere about me." He felt in his pockets and presently brought out the list which Miss Dorothy looked over.

  "Oh, these will not be much trouble," she assured him. "They are all little things. I can easily see to them all."

  "That is good; I am glad to have that responsibility removed," said her father. "You will want some money, I suppose."

  "Yes, but not very much," Miss Dorothy smiled encouragingly. She knew too well the many demands upon that none-too-well-filled pocketbook, and when her father took out a roll of bills and handed them to her she gave some back to him. "I shall not need all that," she told him. "Patty's coat is the only really expensive thing I shall have to get."

  "Very well, then," said her father, "but you must be sure to have enough. Now, where shall we meet for lunch?"

  "Oh, are we all to lunch together?" said Miss Dorothy in a pleased voice. "Suppose we go to Griffin's; it is a nice quiet place."

  "What time?"

  "About one, I think."

  "All right, one sharp, then. Sure you've enough money?"

  Miss Dorothy nodded. "Quite enough. Dear dad," she said as he moved off, "he is so generous. I don't believe he has a mean bone in his body."

  This set Marian to wondering if one had a mean bone which it would be; she thought possibly an elbow; they could be so sharp, but before she had settled the question Patty began to talk to her and they were then so busy getting acquainted that there was no time to think of mean bones or anything else but themselves.

  It was a most delightful experience to go around the big shops, and look at the pretty things. Patty had such a pleasant way of making believe which added to the fun. "Now you say what you are going to buy," she began, "and I'll say what I am. I think I'd like that pretty shiny, pinky silk hanging up there."

  Marian looked at her in amazement. "Oh, have you enough money to buy that?" she asked in surprise.

  Patty laughed. "Not really, I am just pretending I have."

  "Oh," Marian's face cleared. "I'd like to pretend, too. Are you going to buy it for yourself?"

  "Dear me, no. I am going to get it for Dolly; she would look dear in a frock of it. I shall not get much for myself. It's much more fun to get for other people, for they don't know it and it doesn't make them feel bad if they don't get the things. When I get things for myself, sometimes I am a little wee bit disappointed because I am only make-believing. I think Dick would like one of those neckties, the red one, I think."

  Marian felt suddenly very poverty-stricken; there were no Dollies or Dicks for her to buy make-believes for. She sighingly mentioned the fact to Patty.

  "Oh, that doesn't make any difference," said Patty cheerfully; "you can buy for some one else. I think I'll get you that Roman sash."

  "Oh, lovely, and I'll get you the blue one. Would you like it?"

  "I'd love it."

  "I might get Miss Dorothy one of those pretty lacey things in the case."

  "That would be fine; she'd be so pleased." Patty spoke so exactly as if Marian really intended to buy it, that the latter laughed outright. Patty was really great fun.

  "I'll get something for dear Mrs. Hunt," Marian went on.

  "Oh, do. I know about her. Dolly wrote us how kind she was to her. She must be awfully nice."

  Marian overlooked the "awfully." She was not going to criticise anything about Patty if she could help it. "I think I ought to get something for poor Miss Almira," she went on. "It is because she is so ill and couldn't make my coat that I could come to-day. What do you think would be nice for her, Patty?"

  Patty's eyes roved around the big store. "See, those soft-looking wrappers hanging up way over there? I think one of those would be just the thing for a sick person. Let's go look at them and pick one out. We'll tell Dolly we are going. She will be at that counter for some time."

  They left Miss Dorothy while they went upon their interesting errand of selecting a proper robe for Miss Almira. They decided upon one of lavender and white, and then they returned to find that Miss Dorothy had finished making her uninteresting purchases of tapes, thread and the like, so they went to another floor to look at coats. Marian's was chosen first and Patty was so pleased with it that she begged to have one like it, "If Marian doesn't mind," she said.

  Marian did not in the least mind, in fact she would be delighted to know that she and Patty had coats alike, for then they could think of one another whenever they put them on. So one as near like Marian's as possible was selected for Patty, and then they went to a place Patty had been talking of all morning. This was an exhibition of moving pictures which Patty doted upon and which Miss Dorothy, herself, confessed she dearly liked. To Marian it was like exploring a new country, and she was filled with awe and delight, so they remained till the last minute and had to hurry in order to reach Griffin's by one o'clock.

  Mr. Robbins was there, watch in hand. "Ten minutes late," he cried.

  "It was that funny man trying to get his hat that kept us," declared Patty. "We had to see the end."

  "She means the moving pictures," Miss Dorothy explained. "We were so absorbed we didn't realize how the time was going."

  "Oh, well, well, never mind," said Mr. Robbins good-naturedly. "I have ordered lunch and we'll go eat it."

  "Good!" exclaimed Patty. "I always like what dad orders much better than what I get myself. What did you get, daddy dear?"

  "Beefsteak and French fried potatoes, hot rolls, chocolate for you ladies, coffee for myself. Would you like a salad, Dolly? We can have some ice-cream and cake, or whatever sweet you like, later."

  Miss Dorothy declined the salad for them all, and her father led the way to a table near the windows where one could look out upon the street or in upon the room in which they were sitting. It was all very exciting and unusual to Marian who had never enjoyed such a high event in all her life as lunching at a restaurant with grown-ups. Everything was a matter of curiosity and pleasure from the garnished dish of beefsteak to the chocolate with whipped cream on top. The shining mirrors, the dextrous waiters, the music played by an orchestra, seated behind tall palms, made the place appear like fairy-land to the little village girl. "I'd like to do this every day," she confided to Patty.

  "So should I," agreed Patty.

  "No, you wouldn't," put in Mr. Robbins overhearing them. "You'd grow so
tired of it that you would long for plain bread and butter in your own home. Nothing palls upon one so much as having to dine at a restaurant every day. I have tried it and I know."

  Marian could scarcely believe this possible, but she supposed that such things appeared very different to men, and she was sure that it would be many, many years before she would grow tired of it. After luncheon there came more shopping, and the time arrived all too soon when they must start for home. At parting Patty slipped a little package into Marian's hand. "It's for you," she whispered. "It isn't the Roman sash, but I hope you will like it. Dolly is going to ask your grandma if she can't bring you to make us a visit some day."

  "How I should love to do that," was the fervent answer. Marian felt very badly that she had nothing to give Patty in return for her gift. "If you were a heathen," she said gravely, "I might have something to give you, too. I hope grandma will let me make the visit. I mean to think of the mustard seed very hard and maybe she will let me." Then before she could explain this strange speech to the puzzled Patty, Mr. Robbins said they must hurry to the train, and she had to leave Patty on the platform waiting till her train should be called, and wondering what sort of girl Marian could be to say such very unusual things.

  Marian waited till the train was fairly under way before she opened the package Patty had given her. She found it contained a little doll. On a piece of paper was scribbled: "You said you didn't have any little dolls, so I got you this one. It cost only five cents. I hope you will think of me when you play with it." The doll was one which Marian had admired in the Five Cent store, and which she had wished she could buy. "I don't see when she got it," she said to Miss Dorothy, turning the doll around admiringly.

  "Don't you remember when you ran to the door to listen to the street band that was playing outside?"

  "Oh, yes. Was it then?"

  "It was then. Patty was so pleased to get it so secretly."

  "I shall call it Patty," said Marian. "I shall love her very much; she is so cunning and little, and I can do all sorts of things with her that I can't do with my big doll." This tiny Patty was company all the way home, and in a measure took the place of her lively namesake. Marian had been obliged to rely upon her own invention and imagination so much in her little life, which had lacked childish comrades, that she couldamuse herself very well alone or with slight things.

  Miss Dorothy watched her as she murmured to the wee Patty and at last she said: "Have you had a good day, girlie?"

  Marian cuddled up to her in the familiar way she had seen Patty do. "Oh, it has been a wonderful day, and I am so thankful for Patty," she said.

  "Big Patty or this little one?" Miss Dorothy touched the doll with her gloved finger.

  "For both. There is so much that is pleasant in the world, isn't there? Every little while something comes along that you never knew about before and it makes you glad. First you came, then there was school and the girls, and to-day came Patty and your father. He makes me feel very differently about fathers."

  "He is a dear dad," said Miss Dorothy lovingly.

  "Do you think mine will be like him? I've always thought of him as being like grandpa, not that grandpa isn't very nice," she added quickly, "but he doesn't think much about little girls, and never says funny jokey things to them as your father does. He never seems to notice the things I do, and your father talks to Patty about the little, little things I never knew grown up men were interested in."

  "That's because he has to be father and mother, too. Our mother died when Patty was a baby, you know. Yes, daddy is a darling."

  "I hope mine will be," said Marian earnestly. "I haven't any mother either, so perhaps he will feel like being father and mother, too. I wonder when I shall see him. I didn't use to think much about it, but since I have written to him, and all that, I think much more about him."

  "That is perfectly natural, and I have no doubt but that when he finds out that you want to see him he will want to see you, and he will be crossing the ocean the first thing we know."

  "Oh, do you really think so?"

  "I shouldn't be at all surprised, only you mustn't count too much on it. We must be getting those photographs ready pretty soon."

  "I would like one of Patty and me together, I mean Patty Robbins, this is Patty Otway," and she held out her doll.

  "We'll see if that can be arranged."

  "How can it when we don't live in the same place?"

  "I have a little plan that I cannot tell you yet. If it works out all right I will let you know."

  "Oh, Miss Dorothy, you are always making such lovely plans. What did I ever do without you? Has the plan anything to do with my going to visit Patty some time?"

  "Maybe it has and maybe it hasn't. But, dear me, we are slowing up for Greenville. We must not be carried on to the next station. Have we all the things? Where is the umbrella? Oh, you have it. All right. I hope Heppy will give us hot cakes for supper, don't you?" So saying she led the way from the train and in a few minutes they were making their way up the familiar street which, strange to say, had not altered in the least since morning, although Marian felt that she had been away so long something must surely have happened meanwhile.

  A Visit to Patty

  After all it was not so very long before Marian and Patty met again, for a little cough which developed soon after the trip to town in course of time grew worse, and in course of time the family doctor announced that Marian had whooping-cough. Mrs. Otway was aghast. She had a horror of contagious diseases and kept Marian at a distance. "She must not go to school," she said to Miss Dorothy, "for the other children might take it."

  This was a great blow to Marian, for it meant not only staying away from school, but from her schoolmates upon whom she had begun to depend, so it was a very sorrowful face that she wore all that day, and time hung heavily upon her hands. She wandered up-stairs and down, wishing for the hour to come when Miss Dorothy would return. Finally she went out to the garden, for her grandmother had told her to keep in the open air as much as possible, and it was still pleasant in the sunshine. "I don't suppose Dippy and Tippy will get the whooping-cough if I play with them," she remarked to Heppy, feeling that if these playmates failed her she would be desolate indeed.

  Heppy laughed. "They're not likely to," she said, "though I have known plenty of cats to have coughs, and I have known of their having pneumony, but I guess you can risk it."

  So Marian and the cats spent the morning in the garden and it was there Miss Dorothy found them when she came in to dinner. She had an open letter in her hand which she waved as she walked toward Marian. "What do you think?" she said. "Patty has the whooping-cough, too, though not very badly. Your grandmother was right when she said you probably got it the day we all went shopping."

  "Oh, poor Patty! I wish she were here with me."

  "And she wishes you were there with her. She is going to have lessons at home for a little while each day, and I think it would be a good thing if you could have them together. In fact, it struck me as such a good plan that I have spoken to your grandmother about it. Your grandfather has taken up some work this winter which will keep him very busy, and he could not give you any time. I would be glad to, but my work grows more and more absorbing and your grandparents will not listen to my teaching you out of school hours, so as it seems a pity for you to lose all these weeks, I proposed that you should go to our house to keep Patty company. You will not have to study so very hard, for the whooping-cough must have plenty of outdoor air, and it would not do for you to be cooped many hours a day. What do you think of it?"

  For a moment Marian looked pleased, then her face fell. "I should miss you so," she said.

  "You dear child," returned Miss Dorothy, drawing her close. "So should I miss you, but I think I can arrange to come home every week now. It will mean very early rising on Monday morning in order to get here in time for school, but I can manage it, and I shall be able to reach home by six on Friday afternoon, so you see——"


  "Oh, I do see, and I think that would be fine."

  "My little Patty misses me, too, and so does Father. Aunt Barbara is an excellent housekeeper and a good nurse when any one is ill, but she is not much of a companion for daddy nor for Patty. Then, too, I hate to be out of it all. I long to keep up with the college news and the home doings, so I shall try going home at the end of the week, for awhile, anyhow."

  "And did grandma say I could go?"

  "She actually did. I think she is a little afraid of taking whooping-cough herself, for she asked me yesterday if I had ever known of any grown person having it, and I do know of several cases. I had it myself when I was three years old, but your grandma cannot remember that she ever had."

  "I'm glad she can't remember," returned Marian with a laugh. "Who is going to hear our lessons, Miss Dorothy?"

  "My sister Emily. She is two years younger than I, and is still studying. She is taking special courses at college, but thinks she can spare an hour or so a day to you chicks, especially as she expects to teach after a while, and she will begin to practise on you."

  "I will take little Patty with me," declared Marian, picking up that person from where she was seated on a large grape leaf under a dahlia bush.

  "So I would. I am sure she will like to visit Patty's dolls."

  "Oh, Miss Dorothy, you are so nice," exclaimed Marian giving her a little squeeze. "Grandma never says such things. She doesn't ever like to make believe. She says the facts of life are so hard that there is no time to waste in pretending." Marian's manner as she said this was so like her grandmother's that Miss Dorothy could but smile. "I am glad you took some of the photographs for papa before I got the whoops," Marian went on; "the one at school and the one at Mrs. Hunt's. Oh, dear Mrs. Hunt will be sorry to have me go."