In yonder corner there began a motion in the branches of the evergreen tree, and such a Santa Claus as crept forth was never seen before. He was bulgy with furs from crown to foot, but he made a low curve over toward Mrs. Livingston, and then nodded his head about the lines of children. "Good day to you, this Christmas," he said. "Wish you Merry Christmas, Santa Claus," said Philip, with a bow. "Here's business," said Santa Claus. "Stockings, let me see. Whoever owns the stocking that I take down from the line, will step forward and take it." Every single one of the children knew his or her own property, at a glance. Santa Claus had a busy time of it handing down stockings, and a few minutes later he escaped without notice, and was seen no more that year, in Fort Safety. After the stockings came dinner, and such a dinner as it was! Whatever there was not, I remember that it was told to me that there was great abundance of English plum-pudding. After dinner came games and more happiness, and after the last game, came time to go home. The sweet clear afternoon suddenly became dark with clouds, and it began to snow soon after the first load set off. One or two followed, and by the time the last one was ready to start, Mrs. Livingston looked forth and said "not another child should leave her roof that night in such a blinding storm." Eight little hands clapped their new mittens together in token of joy, but poor little Mixie Brownson began to cry. She had never in her life been away from the brown house. Tea was served, and Mixie was comforted for a short time. After that came games again, until all were weary with play; and Otis Grey begged Mrs. Livingston for a story. Mixie was tearful still, and she crept shyly to the lady's side and sobbed forth: "I wish you was my grandma and would take me in your lap." Mrs. Livingston stooped and kissed Mixie's cheek, then lifted her on her knees and began to tell the children a story. It must have been a very pretty picture that the old, blowing snowstorm looked in upon that night, in this very room: twenty or more children seated around the fire-circle, with stately Mrs. Livingston and pretty Aunt Elise in their midst. Whilst all this was going on within, outside a band of Indians, led by a white man, was approaching Fort Safety to burn it down. Step by step, the savages crept nearer and nearer, until they were standing in the very light that streamed out from the Christmas windows. The white man who led them was in the service of the English, and knew every step of the way, and just who lived in the great house.