The driver stopped his horses and reflected. He shook his head slowly. Livingstone, however, was now equal to the emergency. Besides, there was nothing else to do. He turned to his companion. "Where is it?" he began boldly, but as he saw the look of surprise in the little girl's face he added, "I mean--exactly?" "Why, right across from the grocer's with the parrot and the little white woolly dog." She spoke with astonishment that any one should not know so important a personage. And Livingstone, too, was suddenly conscious of the importance of this information. Clearly he had neglected certain valuable branches of knowledge. Happily, the driver came to his rescue. "Where is that, Miss?" he asked. "You go to the right and keep going to the right all the way," she said definitely. Livingstone was in despair; but the driver appeared to understand now. "You tell me when I go wrong," he said, and drove on. He must have children at home, thought Livingstone to himself as the sleigh after a number of turns drew up in front of one of the very windows Livingstone had passed that evening on the back street. He felt as though he would like to reward the driver. It was the first time Livingstone had thought of a driver in many years. Just as they drove up the door of the shop was being closed, and the little girl gave an exclamation of disappointment. "Oh, we are too late!" she cried. Livingstone felt his heart jump into his throat. He sprang to the door and rapped. There was no answer. The light was evidently being turned off inside. Livingstone rapped again more impatiently. Another light was turned down. Livingstone was desperate. His loud knocking produced no impression, and he could have bought out the whole square! Suddenly a little figure pushed against him as Kitty slipped before him, and putting her mouth to the crack of the door, called, "Oh! Mr. Brown, please let me in. It's _me_, Kitty Clark, Mr. Clark's little girl." Instantly the light within was turned up. A step came towards the door, the bolts were drawn back and half the door was opened. Livingstone was prepared to see the shopkeeper confounded when he should discover who his caller was. On the contrary, the man was in nowise embarrassed by his appearance. Indeed, he paid no attention whatever to Livingstone. It was to Kitty that he addressed himself, ignoring Livingstone's presence utterly. "Why, Kitty, what are you doing out at this time of night? Aren't you afraid Santa Claus will come while you are away, and not bring you anything? You know what they say he does if he don't find everybody asleep in bed?" Kitty nodded, and leaning forward on her toes, dropped her voice to a mysterious whisper: "I know who Santa Claus is." The whisper ended with a little chuckle of delight at her astuteness. "I found it out last Christmas." "Kitty, you didn't! You must have been mistaken?" said the shopkeeper with a grin on his kindly countenance. "Who is he?"