“Did! Well, I never thought nothing about comin’ till yesterday, when I sat in my little room, and I got feelin’ pretty dull; and thinks I to myself, I’ll just borrow Mr. White’s old horse, and take my old gig, and drive up to the farm, and see the folks.” “Cousin Betty, who do you think is coming to see us to-night?” asked little Grace. “I’m sure I can’t tell, child. Who is it?” “Why, Santa Claus himself, with all his presents around him.” “Is, hey?” said cousin Betty; “well, I shall be mighty glad to see him, I can tell you; for, old as I am, I’ve never seen him yet.” “I’m so glad you’ve come, cousin Betty!” said Effie; “we want you to go with us some day over to the farm-house, and tell us about our great-grandfather, whose house stood where the farm-house stands now; and how his house was burnt down by the Indians, and he was carried off. Agnes wants to hear it so much.” “Does! Well, I will go over there, and tell you the story, some day. But I can’t walk over there while the weather is so cold; I should get the rheumatiz.” “I’ll drag you over on my sled, if that will do, cousin Betty,” said Robert. The children laughed so heartily at the picture presented to their imagination of little old cousin Betty riding on Robert’s sled, that Grace actually rolled out of her chair. “Why wouldn’t it do to tell the story here, Effie?” asked Agnes. “Oh, because it is a great deal more interesting, told on the spot you know. Cousin Betty has heard it all over and over again from grandmamma, and she can point out, from one window of the farm-house, all the places where all those dreadful things happened.” Some warm dinner was now brought in for cousin Betty, and the children went off to tie up and label the gifts for Santa Claus. “What shall we do with the presents we have for papa and mamma?” asked Grace. “Oh, we cannot hand those in to the study,” said Effie; “we must contrive some way to give them afterwards.” And now the children, one after the other, with their arms laden with packages, were making their way to their father’s study; Emily and Agnes, too, had several contributions to make to the heap of bundles which was piled up on the study table; and before six o’clock, Mr. Wharton said he had taken in enough articles to stock a very respectable country store. At six o’clock the study door was locked, and there was no more admittance. An hour or two after this, the whole family were assembled in the two large parlors, which were brilliantly lighted for the occasion, and all were on the tiptoe of expectation. “I should like to know how he is coming,” said Albert; “he’ll be likely to get well scorched, if he comes down either chimney.” At this moment there was a slight tap at one of the windows opening on to the piazza, which Mr. Wharton immediately proceeded to open, and in walked St. Nicholas.