Standing before the windows of the great, he had gazed long at these creations.  They were suspended on a wire across the window in various lengths, from little ones to sizes too awesome to compute.  On one occasion so long had he stood motionless, so deep the trance of his contemplation, that the winter cold had cruelly bitten his ears and toes.  He had not supposed that these things were for mere vulgar ownership.  He had known of boys who had guns and building-blocks and rocking-horses as well as candy in the lesser degrees; but never had he known, never had he been able to hear of one who had owned a thing like this.  Indeed, among the boys he knew, it was believed that they were not even to be seen save on their wire at Christmas time in the windows of the rich.  One boy had hinted that the “set” would not be broken even if a person should appear with money enough to buy a single one.  And here before him was the finest of them all, receding neither from his gaze or his touch, one as long as the longest of which Heaven had hitherto vouchsafed him a chilling vision through glass; here was the same fascinating union of transcendent merit with a playful suggestion of downright utility.  And he had blurted out to Clytie that the news of there being no Santa Claus was all over town!  He was ashamed, and the moment became for him one of chastening in which he humbled his unbelieving spirit before this symbol of a more than earthly goodness—­a symbol in whose presence, while as yet no accident had rendered it less than perfect, he would never cease to feel the spiritual uplift of one who has weighed the fruits of faith and found them not wanting.

He issued from some bottomless stupor of ecstacy to hear the door open to Allan’s shouts; then to see the opening nicely filled again by the figure of Clytemnestra, who looked over at them with eager, shining eyes.  He was at first powerless to do more than say “Oh, Clytie!” with little impotent pointings toward the candy cane.  But the action now in order served to restore him to a state of working sanity.  There was washing and dressing after Clytie had the fire crackling; the forgetting of some treasures to remember others; and the conveyance of them all down stairs to the big sitting-room where the sun came in over the geraniums in the bay-window, and where the Franklin heater made the air tropic.  The rocking-horse was led and pushed by both boys; but to Clytie’s responsible hand alone was intrusted the more than earthly candy cane.

Downstairs there was the grandfather to greet—­erect, fresh-shaven, flashing kind eyes from under stern brows.  He seemed to be awkwardly pleased with their pleasure, yet scarce able to be one with them; as if that inner white spirit of his fluttered more than its wont to be free, yet found only tiny exits for its furtive flashes of light.