“Oh, a pocketbook!” said Mrs. Gratz.  “How much should be in such a pocketbook, mebby?”

“Nine hundred dollars,” said the thin Santa Claus promptly.

“Goodness!” exclaimed Mrs. Gratz.  “So much money all in one cloos!  Come out to the chicken yard once; I’ll help hunt for cloos, too.”

The thin Santa Claus stood a minute looking doubtfully at Mrs. Gratz.  Her face was large and placid and unemotional.

“Well,” he said with a sigh, “it ain’t much use, but I’ll try it again.”

When he had gone, after another close search of the chicken yard and coop, Mrs. Gratz returned to her friend, Mrs. Flannery.

“Purty soon I don’t belief any more in Santy Claus at all,” she said.  “Purty soon I have more beliefs in chicken thiefs than in Santy Claus.  Yet a while I beliefs in him, but, one more of those come-agains, and I don’t.”

“He’ll not be comin’ back any more,” said Mrs. Flannery positively.  “I’m wonderin’ he came at all, and the jail so handy.  All ye have t’ do is t’ call a cop.”

“Sure!” said Mrs. Gratz.  “But it is not nice I should put Santy Claus in jail.  Such a liberal Santy Claus, too.”

“Have it yer own way, ma’am,” said Mrs. Flannery.  “I’ll own ’tis some different whin chickens is stole.  ‘Tis hard to expind th’ affections on a bunch of chickens, but, if any one was t’ steal my pig, t’ jail he would go, Santy Claus or no Santy Claus.  Not but what ye have a kind heart anyway, ma’am, not wantin’ t’ put th’ poor fellow in jail whin he has already lost nine hundred dollars, which, goodness knows, ye might have t’ hand back, was th’ law t’ take a hand in it.”

“So!” said Mrs. Gratz.  “Such is the law, yet?  All right, I don’t belief in chicken thiefs, no matter how much he comes again.  I stick me to Santy Claus.  Always will I belief in Santy Claus.  Chicken thiefs gives, and wants to take away again, but Santy Claus is always giving and never taking.”

“Ye ‘re fergettin’ th’ chickens that was took,” suggested Mrs. Flannery.

“Took?” said Mrs. Gratz.

“Tooken,” Mrs. Flannery corrected.

“Tooked?” said Mrs. Gratz.  “I beliefs me not in Santy Claus that way.  I beliefs he is a good old man.  For givings I beliefs in Santy Claus, but for takings I beliefs in toober-chlosis bugs.”

“An’ th’ busted padlock, then?” asked Mrs. Flannery.

“Ach!” exclaimed Mrs. Gratz.  “Them reindeers is so frisky, yet.  They have a right to kick up and bust it, mebby.”

Mrs. Flannery sighed.

“‘T is a grand thing t’ have faith, ma’am,” she said.

“Y-e-s,” said Mrs. Gratz indolently, “that’s nice.  And it is nice to have nine hundred dollars more in the bank, ain’t it?”

THE END

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

That Pup

The Great American Pie Company

Pigs is Pigs