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THE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE
look, half eagerness, half desperation, wholly pitiful.
"I will try this house with the flowerpot in the window, ' ' she sobbed, breathlessly. "Oh, but it is bitter cold — I cannot go farther ! ' '
Madeleine was trying hard to sleep, snuggled among the blankets, one tiny hand upthrown above the tangle of her curls. She was thinking of the expected Santa Claus, when she heard a noise.
' ' There 's Mr. Santa Claus, tapping on the window !" she cried.
"Say! Shall I help you? Are your hands too cold ? ' '
To her delight, there was a faint "Yes, please."
"Mercy me!" Madeleine said to herself, "hasn't he got a funny little voice for a man ? I s 'posed he'd have a big, gruff voice, like mens with whiskers always have."
Reassured, she now went directly in front of the window, and looked out, unafraid ; but what she saw made her shrink back with a frightened protest.
" Oh ! You cant come in here ! ' ' she exclaimed. ' ' My papa never 'lows no womens to come in this house; that's why I have to stay all alone while he goes to play to the theater folks. You go right away ! ' '
"But it is so cold and stormy, little one," the woman begged, letting
"oh! you cant come in here!"
She sat straight up in bed, wide awake, her face flushing with startled excitement.
' ' Some one is surely there ! ' ' she cried. "It isn't a dream — it must really be Santa Claus ! ' '
She began to climb from her bed, then she paused, wavered, and crept slowly back into the downy blankets.
"He wont come in if he sees I'm awake," she sighed.
But the fumbling at the window continued, and Madeleine grew very anxious.
' ' He cant get it open, and he wants to come in," she thought. "Maybe his hands are all cold in the snow. I guess he wont be mad if I help him. ' '
The tiny feet pattered across the floor, and the childish voice called:
the shawl slip away from her white face, and stretching out eager hands to the shrinking child. ' ' You wouldn 't want me to freeze, and be all buried up in the cold snow, would you?"
"My papa wont let me have any womens come in here," Madeleine persisted. "He'd scold me, awful, if I did. I thought it was Santa Claus, when I heard you. You aint Santa Claus, are you?"
1 1 No, dear ; but please let me in long enough to get warm."
"Well," yielded the child, pitying