"The scene was indeed most marvelous and it was a long time before either of the children ventured to say a word, for the wonderful workings of nature, all under control of the little, shining buttons, mystified them beyond utterance. "Suddenly they beheld a little brownie hurrying from the factory toward the throne. 'Aunt Twaddles' arose when she saw him coming. "'Here comes a messenger,' she said, 'and something must be wrong.' "In another second he bounded up the onyx steps and soon afterward stood tremblingly before them. "'What is it, Spit?' inquired 'Aunt Twaddles' as she gazed down upon him. "'Spit,' for that was the name of the brownie, looked up into her face as he stood awed by her presence. "'Twaddles!' he exclaimed, 'during the storm the lightning struck a wooden doll in the village and hurt it mighty badly.' "As this sad bit of news fell on the ears of 'Aunt Twaddles,' she dismissed the brownie with a wave of her hand and sank back in her chair, and the children could see that she was much distressed. "'Come! come!' she said to herself at last, 'we must not grieve so much over accidents, for they are often the will of Heaven.' "She arose and greeted the children with a glad smile. "'Aunt Twaddles,' inquired Arthur, 'does Santa Claus always live here?' "Instantly, 'Aunt Twaddles' stepped back from the children and paused. She stood near the steps of the golden throne, her hand resting upon the white polished onyx post that ornamented the end of the beautiful balustrade, and turning to them, she said: "'Yes, children, Santa Claus always lives here and I am his sister.' "As she spoke the last word, a magical change came over her entire features. "Instead of the fat, flabby, emotionless countenance the children had long known and loved, each careworn line withered instantly away, and in place came the bloom and smile of eternal youth and beauty; while the ungainly and ponderous weight that had so encumbered her journeys, disappeared all in a moment, until she now looked more like a beautiful fairy than the dear, good 'Aunt Twaddles' of old. "All the odd, ill-fitting garments, with the long, heavy skirt to which they had so firmly clung for their lives while climbing the face of the cliff, were changed before their very eyes into raiments of rich lace and gold; and she stood before them in her true character, no longer 'Aunt Twaddles,' the herb woman, but the fairy sister of Santa Claus, more lovely by far than any doll they had ever beheld.