“Well, he picked away, and then we waited.  Bimeby we got the foolishest kind of answer:  ‘What sort of toys?  How much of each?’ etc.

“‘Michael and the Archangels all,’ says I, ’how am I supposed to know?  Ain’t that part of a toy-shop man’s business?  Here, young man, you tick-tack ’em that I want toys—­children’s toys—­to use up one hundred plunks—­I want ’em on Number Three—­and if they don’t arrive I will.  I will arrive in their little old toy-shop and play with them till they holler for ma.  Tell ’em I never felt more impatient in my life than I am this minute, and that I’m getting more so per each and every clock tick.  Mention the name of Zeke Scraggs, so they won’t think it’s Mr. Anonymous behavin’ frivolous.  Tell ’em I mean every word of it.  Go on; do it.’

“So he did.

“Then comes a sensible answer:  ‘Goods go forward by Number Three.’

“‘Sure,’ says I. ‘ill you join me?’

“‘I certainly will,’ says he, and bimeby he cried because I looked so like his father, who was just the same kind of short, thick-set, hairy kind of person I was.

“Then my poor little deer-eyed woman come back with a roll of cotton-battin’; at the same minute Number Three pulled in.  ’You get Jimmy, there,’ says I to her, ’to help you whack up the play-toys, whilst I disguise myself as Santy Claus.”

“She stopped and looked at me, then she says in a scart whisper, ‘Are you really the Reverend Silas Hardcrop?’

“‘I’m just as near bein’ the Reverend Silas Hardcrop as I shall ever get,’ says I.

“There come a twinkle of somethin’ almost like fun in her eye.  ’I told them.’ says she, ‘that you would address them at seven, sharp.’

“She and me an Jimmy finished Jimmy’s lunch and sat around, whilst I told ’em anecdotes concernin’ life as it was lived outside the bonds of Oggsouash, till quarter to seven rolled around.  Then we took the back way to the church.

“I don’t think it has ever been my privilege to gaze on one hundred and fifty faces all so astonished at one and the same time as when I stepped forward to the center of the stage at Oggsouash and addressed the meetin’, me bein’ clad as Santy Claus, in flowin’ white whiskers, hair to match.  Jimmy’s coat that come down almost to my waist, a baggage-truck of toys behind me, and a gun in each hand.

“‘Dearly beloved brethren,’ says I, ’I shall try to interest you for a few minutes, and I urge and beg and pray of you that if any male member of your number here assembled feels in any way nervous or fidgety during the course of my remarks that he will conceal it with all possible haste and discreshun, because otherwise I ain’t goin’ to have the bill for the consequences in my mail.

[Illustration:  “‘Dearly beloved brethren,’ says I.”]