“Now, boss,” he said, after he tapped the bottle, “I didn’t wanter play dat Sandy Claws, but de church saunt a committee of one—a mighty hansum an’ hefty ’oman to see me—Sis Tilly—an’ she begged me to do it jes’ fur her sake. Now, es I sed she wuz hansum an’ Dinah wuz bizy makin’ Kris’mus gif’s outen cotton battin,’ dog hair an’ exselsor, dat I knowed she wouldn’t kno’ a side-steppin’ waltz from a breakdown, so I ’cided to he’p Sis Tilly out. Dis led to a lot o’ practicin’ twixt me an’ Sis Tilly at de church, an’ by de time dat Kris’mus night cum I wuz fitten an’ good. All de sisterin he’p fix me up wid whiskers an’ a pillar stumic an’ a big pack o’ fiah-wucks an’ things on my back, an’ when I wuz finished dey said I wuz hansumer den dey eber seed me befo’, an’ I had ’em, boss, whar I could er started a church o’ my own wid all dem sisterin es charter members. Two o’ de bes’ lookers kissed me kase dey said dey nurver had kissed Sandy Claws in dey life. When it comes to inventin’ a reason fur eatin’ furbiddin’ fruit don’t ole Eve’s gals all over de wourl’ sho’ dey pedigree? But Sis Tilly wuz de one I wuz arter, an’ she sed she wuz gwine ter kiss me arter de ball ef I acted ole Sandy well. “De sisterin’ had spent a week on de tree an’ it looked mighty putty all lit up, new candles all ober it an’ in de house. De leetle niggers sot in de front pew waitin’ fur ole Sandy lack dey knowed him all dey life an’ de church wuz full an’ all o’ dem happy an’ me de biggest man in de bunch, prancin’ behind de stage wid Kris’mus in my bones an’ feelin’ like ole Tom Hal at de fust signs of blue grass in de spring. Brer Jones, de preacher, wuz makin’ a leetle talk an’ tellin’ de chillun de usual lies about ole Sandy, an’ what a mighty man he wuz, an’ heah I cum prancin’ out, like a blin’ horse over potato rows. I wuz so dazed when I cum out I couldn’t see nuffin but holly an’ wool all ober de house. But I seed Sis Tilly on de fus’ bench wid a big smile on reddy to vote in de affermative. “‘Dar’s old Sandy! Dar’s ole Sandy!’ dey all shouted, an’ sech a hurow! “It wuz up ter me to act, boss, an’ I done my bes’, but I’ve reached dat stage, like all ole men, when I thinks I wants a whole lot mo’ than I do, an’ I out-acted myself. I ripped an’ I r’ared, I pranced an’ I prared an’ shuck my head at de chillun like a billy goat, whilst ev’ybody howled an’ de organ struck up.