Ho! Ho! Ho! Santa Claus' Reading List

by A. A. Milne

  "Oh!"

  "Come on!" cried Russ to Laddie after a moment. "Let's see what does it."

  "Maybe it's a riddle," Laddie suggested.

  "If it is, it's a funny one," said his brother.

  They started for Mr. White, and, all at once, off came the hat again, and then, suddenly, there was a loud a-ker-choo sneeze!

  "Oh, he's alive! The snow man has come to life!" cried Rose. "I'm going to the house."

  But just then, out from behind the big snow image, with the tall hat in his hand, stepped—Grandpa Ford. He was laughing.

  "I tried to stop that sneeze, but I couldn't," he said. "It came out in spite of me."

  "Oh, was that you, Grandpa?" asked Rose.

  "Did you hide behind the snow man?" questioned Russ.

  "And tip his hat?" Laddie demanded.

  "Why didn't we see you?" inquired Violet.

  "My! what a lot of questions," laughed Grandpa Ford. "Yes, I played a little joke on you. I hid behind the snow man, which was so large I could keep out of sight. I hid there when I saw you coming toward it, and I thought it would be fun to make you think it was alive. So I made him bow with the tall hat."

  "But we didn't see your arm," said Russ. "How did you do it? Did you put your arm up inside the snow arm of Mr. White?"

  "No," answered his grandfather. "I wound this white scarf around my arm, and it looked so much like the snow man himself that you couldn't see when I moved. Did I fool you?"

  "Yes, you did—a lot!" admitted Russ.

  "It was better than a riddle," said Laddie.

  Then Grandpa Ford showed how he had hidden himself behind Mr. White, and, wrapping his arm in a white scarf, which he wore around his neck in cold weather, Mr. Ford had reached up and lifted off the hat and put it back. The white scarf hid his arm, and it looked exactly as if the snow man had made bows.

  "We thought maybe he was alive!" laughed Rose.

  "Well, I was going to have him throw snowballs at you in another minute," said Grandpa Ford with a smile, "but I had to sneeze and spoil my trick."

  "But it was a good one," said Violet.

  "Now, we'll make the rest of the snow family of White," said Russ. "And if Dick or anybody comes along we'll play the same trick on them that Grandpa played on us."

  "Well, you can finish making Mr. White's family later," said Grandpa Ford. "I came out now to see if you don't all want to come for a ride with me. I have to go to town for some groceries, and also go a little way into the country to see a man. Do you want to come for a ride?"

  Well, you can just imagine how gladly the six little Bunkers answered that they did. They forgot all about the snow people, except to tell Daddy and Mother Bunker about Grandpa's funny trick, and, a little later, they were in the big sled filled with straw, riding over the snow.

  Merrily jingled the bells as over the drifts the horses pranced. Down the road they went to the store in Tarrington, where Grandpa Ford bought the things Grandma had sent him after.

  "Are we going home now?" asked Russ, as the sled turned down a country road.

  "No, not right away," answered his grandfather. "I have to go over to Glodgett's Mills to see a man, and after that we'll turn around and be home in time for supper. It looks like more snow, and I want to get you back before, the storm."

  Out on the country roads, where the snow was deep, went the horses, jingling their bells and pulling the sled full of children after them.

  "Get along, ponies!" cried Grandpa Ford.

  And then, all of a sudden, something happened. The sled went into a big drift, which was deeper than Grandpa Ford thought. A moment later there was an upset, and the six little Bunkers were spilled out into the snow.

  In The Cabin

  "Whoa! Whoa there, ponies!" cried Grandpa Ford, as he jumped off the seat and held tightly to the reins. "Whoa!"

  Grandpa's horses were kind and gentle and well-trained. They did not try to run away, but stood still after the sled was upset in the snow bank.

  Russ was one of the first to get to his feet. He rolled out of the drift, shook himself as a dog does coming out of the water, and then looked about him.

  "See if the others are all right!" called his grandfather to him. "I'll hold the horses. Get out Margy and Mun Bun and the others."

  Russ, though not very big, was a sturdy young chap, and, seeing Mun Bun's legs sticking out from under a pile of blankets, hepulled on them. And, as Mun Bun was still fast to his legs, when Russ pulled on them he pulled his little brother out into view.

  "Hi! Quit that! What you doin'?" Mun Bun wanted to know.

  "I had to get you out," said Russ. "Where's Margy?"

  Margy did not answer in words, but she did by crawling out from where she had been sitting next to Mun Bun.

  Then out came Laddie, Vi and Rose, and all the six little Bunkers were accounted for.

  "That drift was deeper than I thought it was," said Grandpa Ford. "The sled went up one side of it and just toppled over. It spilled you all out nice and easy."

  And that is just what had happened. The sled had gone over on one side so slowly and gently that no one was caught under it. The six little Bunkers had been toppled out, still wrapped in the blankets in which they had ridden from Great Hedge.

  "What are we going to do?" asked Russ. "How are we going to get home, Grandpa?"

  "Well, I'll see about that in just a minute," answered Grandpa Ford. "I don't believe anything is broken. But I'll have to get help to lift the sled right side up again. Whoa, now, ponies!"

  The horses, which Grandpa Ford called "ponies," just for fun, were turning to look at the overturned sled. The six little Bunkers stood in a row, also looking at what had happened.

  "It wasn't the ponies' fault, was it, Grandpa?" asked Violet.

  "No, dear. It was mine. I shouldn't have driven them into the bank of snow. But I thought it was soft so the sled runners would sink down in it. However, it was hard, and upset us. But we'll soon be all right. Whoa, now, ponies!"

  The big basket of things Grandpa Ford had bought at the store for his wife had been spilled out of the sled when the upset came. However, nothing was damaged, and the children helped him pick up the scattered things, while Russ held the horses.

  The animals had not fallen down when the sled upset, and were not tangled in the harness, so they did not try to run away. The reason for this was that the front runner of the sled, to which was fastened the tongue, or long pole, on either side of which the horses ran—the front runner, I say, remained straight on the ground. The sled seemed to have broken off from this front part in turning on its side.

  "Yes, it's broken," said Grandpa Ford as he looked at the sled. "I shall have to get it mended before I can drive home again. It's too bad, but I'm glad none of you is hurt."

  He let Russ hold the horses, which stood very still, and the small boy was very proud of having charge of the animals. Down the road stood a small house, which looked something like a log cabin.

  "Could you get the sled fixed there, Grandpa Ford?" asked Russ, pointing to the cabin.

  "No, I hardly think so. I need to go to a blacksmith shop for a bolt to use in place of one that is broken. But I know what I can do. I can leave you children in the cabin until I come back."

  "Leave us there all alone?" asked Rose.

  "Oh, no," replied Grandpa Ford. "Mr. and Mrs. Thompson live there. I'll leave you with Mrs. Thompson. She is very good and kind. She'll look after you. I'll get Mr. Thompson to help me turn the sled right side up, and then I'll go to the blacksmith shop and get a new bolt in place of the broken one."

  "Will you have to walk?" asked Russ.

  "No, I'll ride one of the horses."

  "Oh! Could I ride the other?" begged Laddie eagerly.

  "I'm afraid you're too little," said Grandpa Ford. "Besides, I want to ride fast on the back of Major. And if you rode on Prince, which is the other horse, he might jiggle you off into a snow bank.

  "I think all you six little
Bunkers had better stay at Mr. Thompson's cabin until I come back," went on Grandpa Ford. "I won't be any longer than I can help, and when I get the sled fixed we'll all ride home. I won't make my trip to the country as I was going to, as it will be too late."

  "Can we get something to eat at the cabin?" asked Margy. "I'm hungry."

  "Oh, I guess Mrs. Thompson has something to eat," laughed Grandpa Ford.

  Grandpa unhitched the horses from the overturned sled and then started to drive them toward the cabin, which was the only house for some distance on that road. The six little Bunkers followed, the highway being well-packed with hard snow, so that walking was easy.

  As the procession, led by Grandpa Ford driving the horses, approached the cabin, a door opened and a man came out.

  "Had an accident, did you, Mr. Ford?" he asked.

  "Yes," answered the children's grandfather. "My sled upset in a drift and spilled out my six little Bunkers. I also broke a bolt, and I shall have to ride to the blacksmith shop to get another. I was wondering if the children couldn't wait in your house until I came back."

  "Of course they may!" exclaimed a motherly-looking woman, coming to the door behind her husband. "Bring them in, every one, and I'll give them some bread and milk. I have cookies, too, for I just baked to-day."

  "I'm glad of that!" exclaimed Laddie, and the grown folks laughed at him because he said it so earnestly.

  "Come right in!" went on Mrs. Thompson. "Are you cold?"

  "Not very, thank you," answered Rose. "We had lots of blankets in the sled, and we didn't get much snow on us."

  "Well, sit up by the fire, and I'll get you something to eat," said Mrs. Thompson.

  "I'll put one of your horses in the stable while you ride to the blacksmith shop on the other," said Mr. Thompson, putting on his hat and overcoat, to go out where Grandpa Ford was waiting.

  "Now, you'll be all right, little Bunkers!" called their grandfather to them, as he started away on the back of Major, who had been unharnessed. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

  Mr. Thompson took Prince to his stable. There was a small one back of the cabin. I have called it a "cabin," though it really was a small house. But it was built like a log cabin, and was much smaller than the house at Great Hedge. It was clean and neat, and on a table covered with a bright red cloth, in front of a glowing fire in the stove, Mrs. Thompson set out some cups, some milk, a plate of bread and some cookies.

  "Now come and eat," she said to the six little Bunkers.

  They were just drawing up their chairs, and Russ was wondering how long his grandfather would be gone, when, all at once, a hollow groan sounded through the cabin.

  "Umph! Urr-rumph!"

  It was a most sorrowful and sad sound and, hearing it, Rose cried:

  "Why, there's the ghost again! Oh, it's come from Great Hedge down to this house! There's the ghost!"

  Again the hollow groan sounded.

  Christmas Joys

  Russ, who was about to take a bite out of a cookie that Mrs. Thompson had given him, stopped with the piece half-way to his mouth. He looked at Rose with wide-open eyes.

  The other little Bunkers also looked at their sister, who had left her chair and was standing in the middle of the room.

  "What did you say, my dear?" asked Mrs. Thompson.

  Before Rose could answer again came a queer, hollow, groaning noise, that sounded, the children said afterward, "as if a sick bear had hidden down the cellar and couldn't get out."

  Just what sort of noise a sick bear makes I don't know, for I never heard one. But this noise at any rate, must have been very strange.

  "Umph! Umph! Urr-rumph!" it went.

  "There it is!" cried Rose. "That's the ghost! It sounds just like the noise at Great Hedge, doesn't it, Russ?"

  "It—it sounds something like it," Russ had to admit. "But there isn't a ghost—Daddy said so."

  "A ghost, child! I should say not!" cried Mrs. Thompson. "Of course there is no such thing."

  "But what makes the sound?" asked Russ. "Don't you hear it?"

  "I hear it!" exclaimed Laddie.

  "So do I," said Violet.

  Mun Bun and Margy probably heard it, also, but they were too busy finishing their bread and milk to say anything. Probably they knew that Russ and Rose, who always looked after them, would take care of the strange noise.

  "Oh, that noise!" exclaimed Mrs. Thompson, as once more the hollow groan sounded, throughout the house. "You weren't afraid of that, were you?" And her eyes began to twinkle, then she laughed.

  "A—a little," admitted Rose.

  "It sounds like the cur'us noise at Great Hedge," added Russ.

  "Well, I didn't know you had a curious noise at your grandfather's place," went on Mrs. Thompson. "First I ever heard of it."

  "Oh, yes, there's a ghost there, only it isn't a ghost 'cause there's no such thing! Daddy said so!" exclaimed Rose. "But we got——"

  "We've got a funny noise there," said Russ, breaking in on what his sister was saying. "It sounds like your noise, too."

  "Well, there's nothing so very curious about this noise," laughed Mrs. Thompson. "That's only my husband playing on the big horn he used to blow when he was in the band. He hasn't used it much for years, and can't blow it as well as he used to. But that's what the noise is. Every once in a while he takes a notion and goes up into the attic and blows on the horn. I imagine he did it this time to amuse you children. I'll ask him.

  "Jabez!" she called up the stairs that led to the small second story of the house. "Jabez! Is that you blowing the old bass horn?"

  "Yes, Sarah, that's me," was the answer.

  "Only I can't seem to blow it just right. Something appears to have got stopped up in the horn, or else maybe it's frozen. It doesn't blow like it used to."

  "I should think it didn't!" laughed his wife. "Stop your tooting, and bring the horn down where the children can see it. Some of 'em thought it was a ghost, such as they have at Great Hedge. Did you ever hear of a ghost there?"

  "Oh, I've heard some talk of it," answered Mr. Thompson, and now the six little Bunkers could hear him coming downstairs. He seemed to be carrying something large and heavy.

  "Why didn't you tell me about it?" asked his wife. "I like ghost stories."

  "Oh, this isn't really a ghost," quickly explained Rose. "It's just a queer, groaning sound, and it comes in the middle of the night sometimes, and my daddy and grandpa can't find out what it is."

  "Maybe it was Mr. Thompson blowing his horn," suggested Russ. "It sounded like that."

  "Well, I'm sorry my playing sounds as bad as that," laughed Mr. Thompson, and then he came into the room where the children were, carrying a large brass horn, the kind that play the bass, or heavy, notes in a band. Putting his lips to the mouthpiece Mr. Thompson made the same "umph-umph!" sound that had so startled the children at first.

  "Does that sound like the ghost?" he asked Russ.

  "Just like it, only louder," was the answer.

  "I wonder what it can be at Great Hedge," said Mrs. Thompson. "I should think it would scare you dreadfully," she went on.

  "Why, no," answered Rose. "But we want to find out what it is. So does my daddy and Grandpa Ford. We're going to help him, Russ and I, only every time we hear a funny noise it turns out to be Mun Bun falling out of bed, or an alarm clock beating a drum or something like that."

  "Mercy sakes!" exclaimed Mrs. Thompson. "You must have great goings-on at Great Hedge!" She laughed when Russ and Rose told her of the different queer noises, each one turning out to be something that was only funny and easily explainable.

  "Well, I'm sorry I startled you," said Mr. Thompson. "I sometimes take a notion to go off by myself and blow the old horn as I used to in the band when I belonged to it years ago. That wasn't here; it was in another village. But I had no idea I sounded like a ghost."

  "Oh, it—it sounded nice after we knew what it was," said Rose, thinking Mr. Thompson's feelings might be hurt if they said they di
dn't like his horn.

  "Well, I'll not blow it again while you're here," he said. "And now, unless I'm mistaken, I think I see your grandfather coming back. He'll soon have the sled fixed."

  The six little Bunkers rushed to the window and saw Grandpa Ford riding down the road on the back of Major. Prince had been left in Mr. Thompson's barn. In a little while Russ and Rose were telling their grandfather about the queer noise of the bass horn.

  "I never heard you had a ghost at Great Hedge," said Mrs. Thompson to Grandpa Ford.

  "Well, I call it a ghost for want of a better name," he replied. "It's just a noise, and I thought we would find out what it was before this, but we haven't. However, we don't worry about it. What do you think of my six little Bunkers?"

  "I love them—each and every one," said Mrs. Thompson. "Let them come over and see me again."

  "I will," promised Grandpa Ford.

  "And I promise I won't play the horn for you," added Mr. Thompson, laughing.

  He helped Mr. Ford fix the big sled, and soon it had been turned right side up, the horses were again hitched to it, and the children, after bidding their new friends good-bye, got in, and away they drove again, the merry bells jingling.

  "Well, I wish we could find out what the queer noise is here at Great Hedge as easily as you children found out what the one was at the cabin," said Grandma Ford, when Russ and Rose and Laddie and Vi, by turns, had told her what had happened when Mr. Thompson blew his horn.

  "Did the ghost sound while I was away?" asked Grandpa Ford.

  "Yes, and louder than ever," said Mother Bunker. "We looked all over, but we couldn't find out what made the sound."

  "Maybe it was Santa Claus," said Violet. "He's coming here, and maybe he's trying the chimney to see if it fits him."

  "We thought of that before," said Rose. "But the noise sounded long before Santa Claus comes around. I'm sure it couldn't be him."

  "But he's coming, anyhow," said Violet. "Grandpa said so, and I hope he brings me a new cradle for my doll."

  "I want a new pair of skates," said Russ. "Mine are getting too small."