Chapter VII

How would you like to meet Santa Claus face to face? How would you like him to hold you on his knee and tell you all about everything? How would you like him to show you all about, and let you see the wonderful sleigh and pet the reindeers? Well then, you can just imagine the fun Maida had.

“Do you know,” she said to him shyly, “I am really very glad I met you. You see, Willie Porter, he’s ten, and he knows much more than I do, or thinks he does,--well, he told me there wasn’t any Santa Claus. He hung up his stocking last Christmas, then he stayed awake all night to see if Santa Claus filled it. His papa and mama came into his room ever so many times in the night, but you never came near.”

“Ah! I can explain that,” laughed Santa. “Willie Porter’s papa used to have a fine big open chimney and a lovely fireplace. Then I used to go there every Christmas. But now they’ve shut up the fireplace, so I can’t get down the chimney, and they’ve put in steam heat. Does Willie Porter think I can bring my gifts and crawl through a radiator?” And Santa Claus laughed till he shook like a jelly.

“Ah, I see,” said Maida. “Well, as I have seen all the toys and had a most splendid time I s’pose I must be going, for I am in a hurry to get to the Wishing Post and grow up.” So she prepared to resume her journey but Santa Claus wouldn’t hear of it. “You haven’t seen all the toys,” he shouted. “The two best ones were just finished to-day. Come along with me and we’ll take a look at them.”

So she went with him into a room she hadn’t seen before, but all she could see was two boxes. One was very tall and stood on end, the other was square, with green and yellow stripes on it.

Maida began to peer about the square box with green and yellow stripes on it, when, all of a sudden, she touched a little button. The lid of the box flew open, and out popped the biggest Jack-in-the-Box she had ever seen. He must have been made of springs inside, for he leaned this way and that, and joggled up and down, till Maida thought he’d break in two. He was dressed in a long coat or shirt with pleats in it, just like the folding part of papa’s camera, and he looked very funny. “I feel just like a concertina,” he remarked.

Maida ran to the other box, opened it, and out stepped a Candy Kid. He was much taller than Maida, his arms and legs were made of stick candy, his body was a large chocolate drop, and his head was a marshmallow. Before Maida realized what she was doing she picked off one of his fingers and ate it. The Candy Kid didn’t mind, but Santa Claus didn’t like it at all. He told her not to do anything of the sort again, and got some candy to make the Candy Kid another finger.

“Oh, you beautiful little dolly,” sighed Jack-in-the-Box looking at Maida.

“She isn’t a dolly,” said the Candy Kid. “I believe Santa Claus made her out of a charlotte russe,” for of course the Candy Kid thought Santa Claus made everything out of some kind of sweetmeats.

But Jack-in-the-Box was too full of his thoughts to let the Candy Kid stop him. He bobbed his poor little head, shook about in the box and said: “Oh, I like you very much. I would kneel and tell you all about it, only I have no knees. I would clasp you in my arms, only I have no arms.”

“I like you too,” said Maida shyly, and she nestled up against him. “You are very quaint. Oh, how your poor heart is beating.”

“That isn’t my heart,” replied Jack-in-the-Box, “that’s my mainspring.” Suddenly a loud rattle came from somewhere near his chin. “There,” he sighed, “a cog slipped.”

The Candy Kid had been listening, and he didn’t seem to like Maida to notice Jack-in-the-Box so much, so he politely gave her his arm and walked away with her. Jack-in-the-Box lost his temper at this and threatened the Candy Kid with all sorts of dreadful things, when suddenly there was a rattle; a jerk; and Jack-in-the-Box leaned over limp and flat. “Oh, is he dead?” sobbed Maida. “No, only run down,” chuckled Santa Claus who then wound him up. “He always runs down,” said Santa, “just when he shouldn’t.”

“Oh, I like him so much,” laughed Maida, “but I should think you’d find it awfully hard work to make them.” “Not a bit,” answered Santa Claus, “I think of something to delight children, and presto--it is made.”

Jack-in-the-Box set up a howling, till they had to stop their ears. “Think me some arms and legs,” he roared; “think me some arms and legs.”

“I have,” answered Santa Claus; and sure enough, there they were, two funny little arms swinging stiffly about, and as he hopped out of the box Maida saw he had two stiff little legs. Jack-in-the-Box tried to walk but it was very hard for him.

“Don’t you see,” he inquired, “that I am very starchy. Think me some ball bearings in the joints.” So Santa Claus did, and then he was all right. Oh, they had a fine time, while Santa Claus left them all alone to go and pack an order of toys for some little children in Bombay. But just when the fun was at its height Maida heard a tremendous roar. She turned around to see what made such a noise, and her hair stood on end with fright, for there stood a great big white Polar Bear. The Candy Kid climbed into his box. Maida flew wildly about the room and finally shut herself in a cupboard, but poor Jack--just as he was about to make his escape, he ran down. The bear slowly drew near Jack-in-the-Box and Maida’s heart flew up in her mouth for she was afraid it would eat him. But it didn’t. It wound him up. Then Jack-in-the-Box said “thank you,” and the Bear bowed politely. The Candy Kid saw that the Bear wasn’t hungry, so he came out of his box and tickled the Bear behind the left ear, and the Bear liked it so well he began to hop about and dance. The Candy Kid began to dance, then Jack-in-the-Box began to dance, and they laughed and danced and jumped about till they reached the door, and danced out of it; and the last Maida saw of the Candy Kid and Jack-in-the-Box and the friendly Bear, they were dancing away, together.