But Jack-in-the-Box was too full of his thoughts to let the Candy Kid stop him. He bobbed his poor little head, shook about in the box and said: “Oh, I like you very much. I would kneel and tell you all about it, only I have no knees. I would clasp you in my arms, only I have no arms.” “I like you too,” said Maida shyly, and she nestled up against him. “You are very quaint. Oh, how your poor heart is beating.” “That isn’t my heart,” replied Jack-in-the-Box, “that’s my mainspring.” Suddenly a loud rattle came from somewhere near his chin. “There,” he sighed, “a cog slipped.” The Candy Kid had been listening, and he didn’t seem to like Maida to notice Jack-in-the-Box so much, so he politely gave her his arm and walked away with her. Jack-in-the-Box lost his temper at this and threatened the Candy Kid with all sorts of dreadful things, when suddenly there was a rattle; a jerk; and Jack-in-the-Box leaned over limp and flat. “Oh, is he dead?” sobbed Maida. “No, only run down,” chuckled Santa Claus who then wound him up. “He always runs down,” said Santa, “just when he shouldn’t.” “Oh, I like him so much,” laughed Maida, “but I should think you’d find it awfully hard work to make them.” “Not a bit,” answered Santa Claus, “I think of something to delight children, and presto--it is made.” Jack-in-the-Box set up a howling, till they had to stop their ears. “Think me some arms and legs,” he roared; “think me some arms and legs.” “I have,” answered Santa Claus; and sure enough, there they were, two funny little arms swinging stiffly about, and as he hopped out of the box Maida saw he had two stiff little legs. Jack-in-the-Box tried to walk but it was very hard for him.