hold on,' said Marthy. 'Seems as if I would hev my hands full keepin'
my things from blowin' away.' 'Don't worry about yourself, Marthy,'
sez I, 'for if you'll look after your things, I kind o' calc'late I'll
manage not to lose _you_ on the way.' Dear Marthy--seems as if I could
see you now, with your tangled hair a-blowin' in the wind, your eyes
all bright and sparklin', an' your cheeks as red as apples. Seems,
too, as if I could hear you laughin' and callin', jist as you did as I
toiled up the old New England hill that Chris'mas mornin'--a-callin':
'Joel, Joel, Joel--ain't ye ever comin', Joel?' But the hill is long
and steep, Marthy, an' Joel ain't the boy he used to be; he's old, an'
gray, an' feeble, but there's love an' faith in his heart, an' they
kind o' keep him totterin' tow'rd the voice he hears a-callin': 'Joel,
Joel, Joel!'"

"I know--I see it all," murmured Santa Claus very softly.

"Oh, that was so long ago," sighed Joel; "so very long ago! And I've
had no Chris'mas since--only once, when our little one--Marthy's an'
mine--you remember him, Santa Claus?"

"Yes," said Santa Claus, "a toddling little boy with blue eyes--"

"Like his mother," interrupted Joel; "an' he _was_ like her, too--so
gentle an' lovin', only we called him Joel, for that was my father's
name and it kind o' run in the fam'ly. He wa'n't more'n three years
old when you came with your Chris'mas presents for him, Santa Claus.
We had told him about you, and he used to go to the chimney every
night and make a little prayer about what he wanted you to bring him.
And you brought 'em, too--a stick-horse, an' a picture-book, an' some
blocks, an' a drum--they're on the shelf in the closet there, and his