shovel with an end of his muffler. When he saw Ebenezer, he shook the
muffler at him, and then, over his left shoulder, jabbed the air with
his thumb.

"Look at here," he said, his head reenforcing his gesture toward his
show window, "look what I done this morning. Nice little touch--eh?"

In the show window of the Exchange--Dry Goods Exchange was just the name
of it for the store carried everything--a hodgepodge of canned goods,
lace curtains, kitchen utensils, wax figures, and bird cages had been
ranged round a center table of golden oak. On the table stood a figure
that was as familiar to Old Trail Town as was its fire engine and its
sprinkling cart. Like these, appearing intermittently, the figure had
seized on the imagination of the children and grown in association until
it belonged to everybody, by sheer use and wont. It was a _papier-mache_
Santa Claus, three feet high, white-bearded, gray-gowned, with tall
pointed cap--rather the more sober Saint Nicholas of earlier days than
the rollicking, red-garbed Saint Nick of now. Only, whereas for years he
had graced the window of the Exchange, bearing over his shoulder a
little bough of green for a Christmas tree, this season he stood
treeless, and instead bore on his shoulder a United States flag. On a
placard below him Simeon had laboriously lettered:--

High Cost of Living
and too much fuss
Makes Folks want a
Sane Christmas
Me Too. S. C.

"Ain't that neat?" said Simeon.

Ebenezer looked. "What's the flag for?" he inquired dryly.

"Well," said Simeon, "he had to carry something. I thought of a toy
gun--but that didn't seem real appropriate. A Japanese umbrella wasn't
exactly in season, seems though. A flag was about the only thing I could
think of to have him hold. A flag is always kind of tasty, don't you
think?"

"Oh, it's harmless," Ebenezer said, "harmless."

"No hustling business," Simeon pursued, "can be contented with just
_not_ doing something. It ain't enough not to have no Christmas. You've
got to find something that'll express nothing, and express it forcible.
In business, a minus sign," said Simeon, "is as good as a plus, if you
can keep it whirling round and round."

This Ebenezer mulled and chuckled over as he went on down the street. He
wondered what the Emporium would do to keep up with the Exchange. But in
the Emporium window there was nothing save the usual mill-end display
for the winter white goods sale.

Eben