_Dora_: I won't be put in statistics, even if it is Christmas and you
are the patron saint.

_Charlie_: Nor I. I didn't vote for any improvements. Take them away.

_John:_ You seem a trifle ahead of the age, Mr. St. Nicholas, or else
we made a great mistake in being discontented with our old-fashioned
Christmas.

_Tom_: Allow me to call down your air-ship.

_(Mr. St. Nicholas is ushered to the door. The others turn back at the
sound of sleigh-bells. Santa Claus appears at the fireplace_.)

_Children (greeting him with enthusiasm_): Jolly _old_ Saint Nicholas!

_Santa Claus_: Oh! ho! ha! ha! Are you really glad to see such an
old-fashioned specimen as I am?

_John_: Indeed we are! We have just shown your usurper the door.

_Bess_ (_clasping S.C.'s hand_): You are the real Santa Claus.

_Santa Claus_: Yes, I am the real Santa Claus, and I cannot get to
work until you children are fast asleep. So scurry away as fast as you
can, and a merry, merry Christmas when you awake!

_Children_ (_singing to the tune of "Nancy Lee," end at the end
leaving the stage_):