"And hear th' woman!" said Mrs. Flannery. "Do ye hear that now? Well,
true for ye, ma'am, and stick to it, for there's no tellin' who'll be
claimin' th' money, and if ever Santy Claus brought a thing to a
mortal soul 't was him brought ye that. And 't was only yesterday ye
was sayin' ye had no belief in him!"

"Yesterday I don't have no beliefs in him," said Mrs. Gratz. "To-day I
have plenty of beliefs in him. I like him plenty. I don't care if he
comes every year."

"Sure not," said Mrs. Flannery, "and you with th' nine hundred dollars
in yer pocket. I'd be glad of the chanst. I'd believe in him, mesilf,
for four hundred and fifty."

That afternoon Mrs. Flannery, whose excitement had not abated in the
least, went over to Mrs. Gratz's to spend the afternoon talking to her
about the money. She felt that it was good to be that near it, at any
rate, and when one can make a whole afternoon's conversation out of
what Mrs. Casey said to Mrs. O'Reilly about Mrs. McNally, it is a
shame to miss a chance to talk about nine hundred dollars. Mrs.
Flannery was rocking violently and talking rapidly, and Mrs. Gratz was
slowly moving her rocker and answering in monosyllables, when some one
knocked at the door. Mrs. Gratz answered the knock.

Her visitor was a tall, thin man, and he had a slouch hat, which he
held in his hands as he talked. He seemed nervous, and his face wore a
worried look--extremely worried. He looked like a man who had lost
nine hundred dollars, but he did not look like Santa Claus. He was
thinner and not so jolly-looking. At first Mrs. Gratz had no idea that