I stood up and looked. And up the street I saw them--running and jumping, shouting little songs and laughing all the way--the children, coming out of the Friendship Village schoolhouse, there at the top of the hill. And in a minute it came over me that even if I couldn't help him, there was something to do that mebbe might comfort him some, just now, when he was needing it. I stepped to the door, and up by the locust-tree I see Joseph coming. I could pick out his little black head and his bobbed hair and his red cheeks. And I called to him. "Joseph, Joseph!" I says. "You come over here--and have the rest come too!" He came running, his eyes beginning to shine. And the others came running and followed him, eager to know what was what. And up the road a piece I see some more coming, and they all begun to run too. Joseph ran in the gate ahead of everybody, and past me, and in at the door that was close to the road. And he threw away his book, and ran to his father, and flung both arms around his neck. And the rest all came pressing up around the door, and when they see inside, they set up a shout: "It's the Present-man! It's the Present-man! He's back a'ready!" Because I guess 'most every one of them there had had something or other of Jeffro's making for Christmas. But I'd never known till that minute, and neither had he, that they'd ever called him that. When he heard it, he looked up from Joseph, where he stood holding him in his arms almost fierce, and he come over to the door. And the children pressed up close to the door, shouting like children will, and the nearest ones shook his hand over Joseph's shoulder. And me, all of a sudden I shouted louder'n they did: "Who you glad to see come home?" And they all shouted together, loud as their lungs: "_The Present-man! The Present-man!_" And then they caught sight of Miss Mayhew, coming from the school, and they all ran for her, to tell her the news. And she came in the gate to shake hands with him. And then in a minute they all trooped off down the road together, around Miss Mayhew, one or two of them waving back at him. Then I turned round and looked at Jeffro. "Why, they have felt--felt glad to see me!" he says, breathless. And back to his face came creeping some of the old Jeffro look. "Why, they are glad," says I. "We all are. We've missed you like everything--trudging along with your toys." Joseph wasn't saying a word. He was just snuggling up, nosing his father's elbow, like a young puppy. Jeffro stood patting him with his cracked, chapped hand. And Jeffro was looking down the road, far as he could watch, after the children. "I've got a little canned stuff there in the cupboard for your suppers," I says, not knowing what else to say. "And I stuck a few things in the ground for you out there, that are coming up real nice--potatoes and onions and a cabbage or two. And they's a little patch of corn that'll be along by and by."