Georgie was white and frightened also, but he manfully crept out from
beneath the sofa.
"Who be you?" repeated Santa.
"I--I'm Georgie," stammered the boy.
"Georgie! Georgie who?"
"Georgie Hobbs. The--the boy that lives here."
"Lives--lives HERE?"
"Yes." It seemed strange that the person reputed to know all the
children in the world did not recognize him at sight.
Apparently he did not, however, for after an instant of silent and shaky
inspection he said:
"You mean to say you live here--in this house? Who do you live with?"
"Mrs. Barnes, her that owns the house."
Santa gasped audibly. "You--you live with HER?" he demanded. "Good Lord!
She--she ain't married again, is she?"
"Married! No--no, sir, she ain't married."
"Then--then--See here, boy; what's your name--your whole name?"
"George Ellis Hobbs. I'm Mr. Hobbs's boy, up to South Middleboro, you
know. I'm down here stayin' with Aunt Thankful. She--"
"Sshh! sshh! Don't talk so loud. So you're Mr. Hobbs's boy, eh?
What--eh? Oh, yes, yes. You're ma was--was Sarah Cahoon, wa'n't she?"
"Yes, sir. I--I hope you won't be cross because I hid under the sofa.
They said you were coming, but I wasn't sure, and I--I thought I'd hide
and see if you did. Please--" the tears rushed to Georgie's eyes at the
dreadful thought--"please don't be cross and go away without leaving me
anything. I'll never do so again; honest, I won't."
Santa seemed to have heard only the first part of this plea for
forgiveness.
Pages:
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336