“‘Same to you!’ said he, in a high-pitched voice.

“‘Then you are Father Christmas?’ said Patty.

“‘And a happy New Year,’ was Father Christmas’s reply, which rather put me out.  But he smiled in such a satisfactory manner that Patty went on, ‘You’re very old, aren’t you?’

“‘So I be, miss, so I be,’ said Father Christmas, nodding.

“‘Father says you’re eighteen hundred and thirty years old,’ I muttered.

“‘Aye, aye, to be sure,’ said Father Christmas.  ‘I’m a long age.’

“A very long age, thought I, and I added, ’You’re nearly twice as old as Methuselah, you know,’ thinking that this might have struck him.

“‘Aye, aye,’ said Father Christmas; but he did not seem to think anything of it.  After a pause he held up the tree, and cried, ’D’ye know what this is, little miss?’

“‘A Christmas-tree,’ said Patty.

“And the old man smiled and nodded.

“I leant over the wall, and shouted, ‘But there are no candles.’

“‘By and by,’ said Father Christmas, nodding as before.  ’When it’s dark they’ll all be lighted up.  That’ll be a fine sight!’

‘"Toys, too,there’ll be, won’t there?’ said Patty.

“Father Christmas nodded his head.  ‘And sweeties,’ he added, expressively.

“I could feel Patty trembling, and my own heart beat fast.  The thought which agitated us both was this:  ’Was Father Christmas bringing the tree to us?’ But very anxiety, and some modesty also, kept us from asking outright.

“Only when the old man shouldered his tree, and prepared to move on, I cried in despair, ‘Oh, are you going?’

“‘I’m coming back by and by,’ said he.

“‘How soon?’ cried Patty.

“‘About four o’clock,’ said the old man smiling.  ’I’m only going up yonder.’

“‘Up yonder!’ This puzzled us.  Father Christmas had pointed, but so indefinitely that he might have been pointing to the sky, or the fields, or the little wood at the end of the Squire’s grounds.  I thought the latter, and suggested to Patty that perhaps he had some place underground like Aladdin’s cave, where he got the candles, and all the pretty things for the tree.  This idea pleased us both, and we amused ourselves by wondering what Old Father Christmas would choose for us from his stores in that wonderful hole where he dressed his Christmas-trees.

“‘I wonder, Patty,’ said I, ’why there’s no picture of Father Christmas’s dog in the book.’  For at the old man’s heels in the lane there crept a little brown and white spaniel looking very dirty in the snow.

“‘Perhaps it’s a new dog that he’s got to take care of his cave,’ said Patty.

“When we went indoors we examined the picture afresh by the dim light from the passage window, but there was no dog there.

“My father passed us at this moment, and patted my head.  ‘Father,’ said I, ’I don’t know, but I do think Old Father Christmas is going to bring us a Christmas-tree to-night.’