Need for a decision confronted her.  Should she reserve the pleasure she expected to derive from the interview for herself or should she share it with little brother?  There was a certain risk in arousing brother.  He was apt to awaken clamant, vociferous.  Still, she resolved to try it.  For one thing, it seemed so selfish to see Santa Claus alone, and for another the adventure would be a little less timorous taken together.

Slipping her feet into her bedroom slippers and covering her nightgown with a little blanket wrap, she tip-toed over to brother’s bed.  Fortunately, he too was sleeping lightly, and for a like reason.  For a wonder she succeeded in arousing him without any outcry on his part.  He was instantly keenly, if quietly, alive to the situation and its fascinating possibilities.

“You must be very quiet, John,” she whispered.  “But I think Santa Claus is down in the library.  We’ll go down and catch him.”

Brother, as became the hardier male, disdained further protection of his small but valiant person.  Clad only in his pajamas and his slippers, he followed sister out the door and down the stair.  They went hand in hand, greatly excited by the desperate adventure.

What proportion of the millions who dwelt in the great city were children of tender years only statisticians can say, but doubtless there were thousands of little hearts beating with anticipation as the hearts of those children beat, and perhaps there may have been others who were softly creeping downstairs to catch Santa Claus unawares at that very moment.

One man at least was keenly conscious of one little soul who, with absolutely nothing to warrant the expectation, nothing reasonable on which to base joyous anticipation, had gone to bed thinking of Santa Claus and hoping that, amidst equally deserving hundreds of thousands of obscure children, this little mite in her cold, cheerless garret might not be overlooked by the generous dispenser of joy.  With the sublime trust of childhood she had insisted upon hanging up her ragged stocking.  Santa Claus would have to be very careful indeed lest things should drop through and clatter upon the floor.  Her heart had beaten, too, although she descended no stair in the great house.  She, too, lay wakeful, uneasy, watching, sleeping, drowsing, hoping.  We may have some doubts about the eternal springing of hope in the human breast save in the case of childhood—­thank God it is always verdant there!

III

Now few people get so low that they do not love somebody, and I dare say that no people get so low that somebody does not love them.

“Crackerjack,” so called because of his super-excellence in his chosen profession, was, or had been, a burglar and thief; a very ancient and highly placed calling indeed.  You doubtless remember that two thieves comprised the sole companions and attendants of the Greatest King upon the most famous throne in history.  His sole court at the culmination of His career.  “Crackerjack” was no exception to the general rule about loving and being beloved set forth above.