He explained to Mr. Brown his wishes. He wanted to get many things, but did not know how to keep the child from suspecting his plan. The shopkeeper gave him a suggestion. Close association and sympathy with children had given Brown knowledge. CHAPTER XIII They returned to Kitty. She was busy figuring on a little piece of paper, moistening her little stub of a pencil, every other second, with her tongue. Her little red mouth showed streaks of black. She was evidently in some trouble. Livingstone drew near. "How are you coming on?" he asked. She looked up with a face full of perplexity. "Oh! I've spent nearly the whole dollar and I haven't but nine presents yet. We must get something cheaper.--But they were so pretty!" she lamented, her eyes glancing longingly towards the articles she had selected. "Let's see. Maybe, you have made a mistake," said Livingstone. He took the bit of paper and she handed him the pencil. "I'm not very good at making figures," she observed. "I'm not either," said Livingstone, glancing at the paper. "I'll tell you what let's do," he said. "Let's get Mr. Brown to open all his cases and boxes, and let's look at everything and just see what we would select if we could have our choice?" The little girl's eyes opened wide. "You mean, let's make pretense that we are real sure-enough Santa Claus and just pick out everything we want to give everybody, and pretend that we could get it and give it to them?" Livingstone nodded. "Yes." That was just what he ought to have meant, he knew. The inquiry in Kitty's big eyes became light. She sprang to her feet and with a little squeak of delight marched to the middle of the shop and taking her stand began to sweep the shelves with her dancing eyes. Livingstone gave a nod to the shopkeeper and he drew back the curtains that protected the cases where the finer and more expensive goods were kept and began to open the boxes. Kitty approached on tiptoe and watched him with breathless silence as though she were in a dream which a word might break. Then when she had seen everything she turned back to Livingstone. "Well!" she said slowly. "Well, what do you say?" He too was beginning to feel a spell. "Well, if I were a real, sure-'nough Santa Claus, I'd just get--everything in those cases." The spread of her little arms took it all in. "And what would you do with it?" asked Livingstone in the same low tone, fearful of breaking the reverie in which she stood wrapped. He had never before in all his life been taken into partnership by a little girl, and deep down beneath his breast-pocket was a kindling glow which was warming him through and through.