“I should like to know how he is coming,” said Albert; “he’ll be likely to get well scorched, if he comes down either chimney.”

At this moment there was a slight tap at one of the windows opening on to the piazza, which Mr. Wharton immediately proceeded to open, and in walked St. Nicholas.

He was a jolly, merry-looking, little old gentleman, with beard and whiskers as white as snow, and enveloped in furs from head to foot.  Around his neck, around his waist, over his shoulders, down his back, and even on the top of his head, were presents and toys of every description.  Behind him he dragged a beautiful sled, which was loaded with some articles too bulky to be carried around his person.  Every pocket was full; and as he passed through the rooms, he threw sugar plums and mottoes, nuts and raisins, on all sides, causing a great scrambling and screaming and laughing among the children.

Then he began to disengage the presents, which were pinned about him, and tied to the buttons of his coat; and as he did so, he looked at the label, and threw it at the one for whom it was intended.  It would be hard for one who was not there to imagine the lively scene which was now presented in the great parlors at Brook Farm; the presents flying round in all directions; the children dodging, and diving, and catching, while shouts and screams of laughter made the house ring.

“But who is he?—­who can he be?” was the question which each asked of the other a great many times during this merry scene.  Mr. Wharton and Mr. Ellison, “Aunt Fanny’s” husband, were both in the room, and they were sure there was no other gentleman in the house.

Just then Robert screamed, “Oh, I know now!  It’s cousin Tom!  He throws left-handed!” And now the effort was made to pull off the mask, but Santa Claus avoided them with great dexterity, still continuing his business of distributing the presents.

At the feet of Agnes he placed a work-box, much handsomer than that which Lewie had destroyed; at Emily’s, a writing-desk, and some valuable books; and when his sled was emptied, he drew the sled, and left it with little Harry, for whom it was intended.

“My goodness gracious!” said cousin Betty, as a beautiful muff “took her in the head,” as Albert said, and sadly disarranged the set of her odd little turban.

“And now I believe old Santa Claus has finished his labors,” said Mr. Wharton.

“Oh no, not yet,” cried Effie; “he must come with us for a new supply.  But I feel a little afraid of him yet.  If I only could be sure it was cousin Tom!”

“You need not doubt that, Effie,” said Robert; “nobody else ever threw like cousin Tom.  I’ve seen him play snow-ball often enough.”

And now Santa Claus was taken captive by the children, and in a few minutes he re-appeared, laden with gifts, but this time for the older members of the family; and the products of the children’s industry made quite a display, and much astonished those for whom they were intended, the children having kept their secrets well.