So he asked the Patchwork Woman through the keyhole.

“I never told a story in my life,” said she; “but there’s a boy here that I heard telling a beautiful one the other day.  Here, Julia,” called she, “come and tell a story to the Chinese Ambassador.”

Julia really knew a great many stories which his Grandmothers had taught him, and he sat on a little stool and told them through the keyhole all night to the Chinese Ambassador.

He and the Mayor were so interested that morning came and the door swung open before they knew it.  The poor Ambassador drew a long breath, and put his hand around to his queue to see if it was safe.  Then he wanted to thank and reward the boy who had made the long night hours pass so pleasantly.

“What is he in here for?” asked the Mayor, patting Julia, who could hardly keep his eyes open.

[Illustration:  THE GRANDMOTHERS ENJOY THE CHINESE TOYS.]

“He grumbled about his Christmas presents,” replied the Patchwork Woman.

“What did you have?” inquired the Mayor.

“Eight pairs of blue yarn stockings,” answered Julia, rubbing his eyes.

“And the year before?”

“Eight pairs of blue yarn stockings.”

“And the year before that?”

“Eight pairs of blue yarn stockings.”

“Didn’t you ever have anything for Christmas presents but blue yarn stockings?” asked the astonished Mayor.

“No, sir,” said Julia meekly.

Then the whole story came out.  Julia, by dint of questioning, told some, and the other children told the rest; and finally, in the afternoon, orders came to dress him in his own clothes, and send him home.  But when he got there, the Mayor and Chinese Ambassador had been there before him, and there hung the eight pairs of blue yarn stockings under the mantel-shelf, crammed full of the most beautiful things—­knives, balls, candy—­everything he had ever wanted, and the mantel-shelf piled high also.

A great many of the presents were of Chinese manufacture; for the Ambassador considered them, of course, superior, and he wished to express his gratitude to Julia as forcibly as he could.  There was one stocking entirely filled with curious Chinese tops.  A little round head, so much like the Ambassador’s that it actually startled Julia, peeped out of the stocking.  But it was only a top in the shape of a little man in a yellow silk gown, who could spin around very successfully on one foot, for an astonishing length of time.  There was a Chinese lady-top too, who fanned herself coquettishly as she spun; and a mandarin who nodded wisely.  The tops were enough to turn a boy’s head.

There were equally curious things in the other stockings.  Some of them Julia had no use for, such as silk for dresses, China crape shawls and fans, but they were just the things for his Grandmothers, who, after this, sat beside the fireplace, very prim and fine, in stiff silk gowns, with China crape shawls over their shoulders, and Chinese fans in their hands, and queer shoes on their feet.  Julia liked their presents just as well as he did his own, and probably the Ambassador knew that he would.