The Errors of Santa Claus by Stephen Leacock. It was Christmas Eve. The
Browns, 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. Ingenious thing, isn't it, he said,
goes on its own rails. Queer, How kids loved to play with trains,
isn't it? Yes, assented browne. 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 cloth. There. See you lay the
rails like that and fasten them at the ends. 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 aeroplane. 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 altogether 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. Wind her up, said
Brown with great interest. Let's see her 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? Eh? Yes, said Brown? And
say see this little string to pull the whistle by, get it toots eh,
just like real now. Then Brown Jones went on, you hitch on
those cars and I'll start her. I'll be engineer. Eh. 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 missus
Brown. Just the loveliest doll I've seen in years. I must get one
like it for Olvina. Won't Chlorice be perfectly enchanted, yes, answered missus
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.
Aren't they cute? All cut out and ready to stitch together? Oh?
How perfectly lovely, exclaimed Missus Brown. I think the mauve 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 Missus
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, Missus Jones
and Missus 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.
Dandy, aren't they? Edwin Jones was saying, too, Little Willie
Brown as they sat in Edwin's bedroom. A hundred in a box with cork
tips and sea an amber mouthpiece that fits into a little case at the side
good present for dad, eh 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 what do you like to
try one or two of these cigarettes? We can take them from the bottom.
You'll like them. They're Russian away ahead of Egyptian, thanks, answered
Willie. I'd like one immensely. I only started smoking last spring, on
my twelfth birthday. I think a feller's a 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, Clorice was showing little Olvina
the absolutely lovely little bridge set that she had got for her mother. Aren't
these markers perfectly charming? Said Alvina. And don't you love this little Dutch
design? Or is it Flemish? Darling Dutch? Said Clarice. Isn't it
quaint? And aren't these the dearest little things for putting the money in?
When you 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 abominably, shuddered Olvina. But your mamma never plays for money,
does she, Mamma? 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
mamma 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 too all right, agreed Olvina, 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 hunt 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 affectionate eye at the presence
that stood beside him. There was a beautiful whisky decanter with silver filigree outside
and whiskey inside. For Jones, and for the little boy a big nickel
plated Jew's harp. 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 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, Eh and Jones were
playing with the train, and Missus Brown and Missus Jones were making dolls clothes,
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 Jew's harp, and so Christmas, just as it always does,
turned out all right after all. End of the Errors of Santa Claus by Stephen Leacock