Now WHAT do you cal'late it all means?"
"I don't know. I don't know. But I can't think Emily--Hush! she's
comin'."
Emily entered the room and Captain Obed began philosophically concerning
the storm, which he declared was "liable to be a hooter."
He went away soon after. At the door, when he and Mrs. Barnes were
alone, he whispered, "Ain't changed your mind, have you, Thankful?
About--about what I said to you that day?"
"Obed, please! You said you wouldn't."
"All right, all right. Well, good night. I'll be around tomorrow to
wish you and Emily and the second mate a merry Christmas. Good night,
Thankful."
After he had gone Thankful and Emily assisted Georgie in hanging up his
stocking and preparing for bed. The boy seemed willing to retire, a most
unusual willingness for him. His only worry appeared to be concerning
Santa Claus, whom he feared might be delayed in his rounds by the storm.
"He'll be soaked, soppin' wet, won't he?" he asked anxiously.
"Oh, he won't mind. Santa Claus don't mind this kind of weather. He
lives up at the North Pole, so folks say."
"Yes. Won't the chimney soot all stick to him when he's wet? He'll be a
sight, won't he?"
"Perhaps so, but he won't mind that, either. Now, you go to bed,
Georgie, like a good boy."
"I'm a-goin'. Say, Aunt Thankful, will the soot come all off on my
presents?"
They got him into bed at last and descended to the living-room. The
storm was worse than ever. The wind howled and the rain beat.
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