Santa Claus and Little Billy 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 mass of wonders, which, in all probability would so dazzle his vision
as to leave him incapable of movement. But Little Billy 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. Off he pattered 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 borne along in the resistless
current until he found himself at last out upon the street, alone, free
and independent. It was great fun at first, by and bye. 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 gladdest time of all the year. Little Billy
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 fellow
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 gray 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 Billy had seen. With a
glad cry of happiness. Little Billy ran to meet the old fell 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 face
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 mamma at home, wherever that might be. Little Billy had
never thought to inquire just where home was. All he knew was that it
was a big gray stone house on a long street somewhere, with a tall
iron railing in front of it, not far from the park. Had he
do, mister, Santa Claus, said little Billy, as the other's hand
unconsciously tightened over his own. By hot he 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 Billy bravely. My mamma left me a little while ago while she
went off about something, and I guess I got losted, very likely,
returned the old saint with a smile. Little two by four fellows are apt
to get losted when they start in on their own hook, specially days like
these with such crowds hustling around. But it's all right now, suggested little
Billy. Hopefully I'm found again, ain't i? Ah? Yes, indeedy
you've found all right, kitty. Santa Claus agreed, And pretty soon you'll
take me home again, won't you? Said the child, sureest thing you
know, answered Santa Claus, looking down upon the bright but tired little face
with a comforting smile. What might your address be, my what, asked
Little Billy? Your address, repeated Santa Claus. Where do you live?
The answer was a ringing peal of childish laughter. As if you you didn't
know that, cried Little Billy, giggling. Ah ha, laughed Santa Claus.
Can't fool you, cat, I It would be funny if, after
keeping an eye on you all these years, since you was a babby,
I didn't know where you lived. Eh, half funny, agreed Little Billy.
But tell me, mister 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 Billy
thought was rather a strange thing to do. You've got more white marks than
black ones, a good many more, one 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 Billy, 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. Four against you. Thank you, sir, said Little
Billy, much comforted. Don'll mention it. You are very welcome, kitty,
said Santa Claus, giving the youngster's hand a gentle squeeze. Why do
you call me kitty when you know my name is Little Billy, asked the
boy. Ah, 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 they are just Then Little Billy noticed for
the first time the square boards that Santa Claus was wearing. What are you
wearing those boards for, mister 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 new fangled back and chest. Protect us, my lad,
he replied, Sometimes we have bitter winds blown at Christmas, and I
have to be ready for them. You wouldn't do for Santa Claus to come
down with the sneezes at Christmas time, you know, no, sir,
ree. This board in 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'll have to tell my Papa about them, said
Little Billy, 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 hetha 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 you Papa a pear
like em for his next Christmas. Santa Claus laughed as he spoke, but
there was a catch in his voice which Little Billy was too young to notice.
You've got letters printed there, said the boy, peering around in front
of his companion at the lettering on the board. Lord, 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 are
not more than five last month, said Little Billy 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 chief to 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 Billy was surprised to see a tear glistening in his
eye. Why have you got a little boy, he asked, Yes,
little Billy, said the saint, a poor wife faced little chap about a
year older than you. Who, well, never mind, kiddy, he's
a kitty too. Let's talk about something else, or I'll have bicycles in
my eyes. You didn't tell me what those letters on the board spell,
said Little Billy. Merry Christmas to everybody, said Santa Claus. I have
the words printed there so that everybody can see them. And if I'm mis
wishing anybody a merry Christmas. You'll know I meant it just the same.
You're awful kind, aren't you, said Little Billy, squeezing his friend's hand
affectionately. It must make you very happy to be able to be so kind
everybody two. Santa Claus made no reply to this remark, beyond giving a
very deep sigh, which Little Billy chose to believe was evidence of a great
inward content. They walked on now in silence, for Little Billy 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, mister Santa Claus, he said, I'm
tired, and I'm afraid my mamma 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. Then 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 Billy. It's in the big graystone house with the iron fronts
in front of it, near the park. Ah, that's easy enough,
laughed Santa Claus nervously. Anybody could say he lived in a greystone house with
a fence around it, near the park. But you don't know what street
it's on, nor the number either. I'll bet fourteen wooden giraffes against a
monkey on a stick. No, I don't, said Little Billy frankly,
but I know the number in her ordermobile. It's n y fine, 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, why,
of course we can get along without it. It's queer. You don't know
your last name, though I do tourn on my last name, blurted Billy.
It's a Billy. That's the last one they 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 Billy indignantly. His name is mister Harrison. Well you are a
smart little chap, cried Santa Claus, gleefully. You got it right the
very first time, didn't you. I really didn't think you knew. But
I don't believe you know where your papa keeps his bake shop where he makes
all those nice cakes and cookies you eat well, he began to laugh again.
You can't fool me, mister Santa Claus, he said, I know
my papa don't keep a bake 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 Billy. It's made a stone and it
has more than a million windows in it. I went down there with my
mama to Papa's office the other day, so I guess I outn't know.
Well, I should say so, said Santa Claus. Nobody better. By
the way, Billy, what does your mama call you papa? Billy like
you? He added? Oh no, indeed, returned Little Billy. She
calls him papa except once in a while when he's 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. Thomas Harrison banker, He muttered to himself, what
with the telephone book in the city directory, I guess we can find our
way home with Little Billy. Do you think we can go now, mister
Santa Claus asked Little Billy, for the cold was beginning to cut through his
little coat, and the sandman had started to scatter the sleepy seeds all around.
Yes, sir, ree, returned 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. Hum, I don't know whether we can or not. Come to
think of it, Ah, do you happen to have ten cents in your
pocket? Santa added with an embarrassed air. You see, I've left my
pocket book in the sleigh with my toy pack, And besides, mine's only
toy money. They won't take that on the cars. I got twenty five
cent, said Little Billy. 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 proffered coin.
We'll start home right away, only come in here first, while I
telephoned to Santaville. Tell him 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 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 footsore Santa Claus leading a sleepy little boy up Fifth
Avenue to a cross street which shall be nameless. The boy vainly endeavored to
persuade his companion to come in and meet Mamma Nah Billy. The old man
replied sadly, I must hurry back. You see Kitty this is my busy
day, missires. I never go into a house except through the chimney.
I wouldn't know how to behave going in at a front door. But it
was not to be as Santa Claus willed for Little Billy's papa and his mamma,
and his brothers and sisters, and the butler and the housemaids, and
two or three policemen were waiting at the front door when they arrived. Aha,
said one of the police, seizing Santa Claus roughly by the arm.
We've landed yea. All right, where have ye 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, 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 fellows, mister Harrison, returned the officer. First thing,
you know, they'll be makin a trade of this sort of thing. I'm
no grafter, retorted Santa Claus indignantly. I found the little chap 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 is far better that he should warm them, officer, said mister
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, missus 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 furs 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 coat it covered. And as for the good old saint's comfortable
stomach, strange to say it was not. I I wish you all a
merry Christmas, faltered Santa Claus. But I really must be going, sir.
Nonsense, cried mister 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, faltered
the man. I I 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 shuddered.
It's him as 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 hand sympathetically. He's been walking a lot today, Yes, my son,
said mister 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 have writing on them too.
Do you know what it says, yes, said mister 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 is
trying to fool me. This is you did when you pretended not to know
where I live. Santa Claus, he said, looking up into the old
fellow's face, his own continents brimming over with mirth. You mustn't think he
can't read, though, the lad added hastily, He's only joking. H
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, mister Billium, 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 hasn't
printed there, so that if he misses saying it to anybody. No,
no, he means it just the same. By jove, mister 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 pack. You
do exist, and by the great horn spoon, you are the real thing.
Four. Little Billy had the satisfaction of acting as hosts 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
Smither's 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 ya Mamma, but the little boy
who brings you this letter is my little boy, and I am going to
let you have him for a playfellow 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
often in the future, but I doubt you will see me. I am
not going to return to twenty third Street again, but shall continue my work
in the land of Yule, in the Palace of good Will, whose beautiful
windows look out upon the homes of all good children. Good Bye, Little
Billy, and the happiest of happy Christmases to you and all of yours,
Affectionately, Santa Claus. When Little Billy's Mamma 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, Mamma, 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, said 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 to twenty third Street? Young, he asked?
Twenty third 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 twenty third 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 all my life to go abroad. Abroad,
roared Little Billy, grinning at John's utterly absurd mistake. Why twenty third stat
ain't abroad, it's uptown near a near twenty second Street, really, returned
John evidently tremendously surprised. Well, well, well, who'd have thought that.
Well, if that's the case, some time 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 Bangs