On the third floor of the department store, as Peggy had conjectured, a somewhat bored and stolid looking Santa Claus distributed mechanical pats on the heads of the children gathered about him, and nodded encouragement to their artless confidences. Dorothy gazed with half fearful fascination at his wealth of snowy hair, looking all the whiter in contrast to his florid complexion. Whether or not Santa Claus in the flesh fell short of her expectations, Peggy did not know, but whatever the explanation, she found it necessary almost to drag Dorothy to the august presence. Her turn came after an interminable waiting. A big hand patted the top of Dorothy’s head and a deep voice asked, "An’ what are you afther wantin’ for Christmas?" Considering a life-long residence at the North Pole, Santa Claus’ accent was surprisingly suggestive of Tipperary. Dorothy did not reply and Peggy nudged her. "Tell him what you want for Christmas, darling." "A pair of mittens," Dorothy said faintly. "Mittens!" exclaimed the astonished Peggy. "Why, I thought--" But Santa had nodded, and clapped his hand on the red head of the boy next in line. "And what would this foine lad be wantin’ for Christmas?" The two moved on. Then Dorothy hid her face in Peggy’s skirts, smothering a wail. "I don’t like Santa Claus," she sobbed. "And I hate mittens. I’ll frow ’em away. I’ll let Taffy eat ’em up." "Then why did you tell him you wanted mittens?" asked Peggy, fighting back her laughter, as she realized the seriousness of the situation, from Dorothy’s point of view. "Cause he didn’t look as if he’d give me a doll-carriage. He looked as if I hadn’t been a good girl. O, dear! O, dear!" The situation was becoming embarrassing as Dorothy’s sobs grew more and more violent. People turned to stare, and Peggy hastily suggested a remedy. "I tell you what, Dorothy. We’ll go back and tell him it was a mistake, and that what you really wanted was a doll-carriage." Though this suggestion had the effect of drying Dorothy’s tears, it was some time before she could be persuaded to act upon it. When they again presented themselves in the line of supplicants, Dorothy hung back, and Peggy acted as spokesman. "Santa Claus, this little girl made a mistake when she asked you for mittens. What she really wants is a nice doll-carriage, so she can take her dolly out riding." Santa Claus looked at Dorothy’s pink eyelids, and cheeks still stained with tears, and a sudden attractive change came over him. He looked less like a tired, red-faced man, getting through with the drudgery of his day’s work, and more like the jolly saint of the chimney and fireplace. A twinkle appeared in his eye.