The
fire in the "airtight" stove showed red behind the isinglass panes, and
the room was warm and comfortable.
Georgie did not hesitate; his plan was complete to the minutest details.
By the light from the stove he found his way to the sofa which stood
against the wall on the side of the room opposite the windows. There was
a heavy fringe on the sofa which hung almost to the floor. The youngster
lay flat upon the floor and crept under the fringe and beneath the sofa.
There he lay still. Aunt Thankful and Captain Obed and Imogene had said
there was a Santa Claus; the boy in South Middleboro had said there was
none; Georgie meant to settle the question for himself this very night.
This was his plan: to hide in that living-room and wait until Santa
came--if he came at all.
It was lonely and dark and stuffy under the sofa and the beat of the
rain and the howling gale outside were scary sounds for a youngster no
older than he. But Georgie was plucky and determined beyond his years.
He was tempted to give up and scamper upstairs again, but he fought down
the temptation. If no Santa Claus came then he should know the Leary boy
was right. If he did come then--well then, his only care must be not to
be caught watching.
Twelve o'clock struck; Georgie's eyes were closing. He blinked owl-like
under the fringe at the red glow behind the isinglass. His head,
pillowed upon his outstretched arms, felt heavy and drowsy. He must keep
awake, he MUST. So, in order to achieve this result, he began to count
the ticks of the big clock in the corner.
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