with Christmas!"

"And father," laughed Rosalee, "is such friends with mother!"

"Usually," I said.

"Eh?" said father.

"And then," explained mother, "on Christmas morning we all go to the
parlor!"

"And there's a fire in the parlor!" I explained. "A great hollow Yule
log all stuffed full of crackly pine-cones and sputtering sparkers and
funny-colored blazes that father buys at a fireworks shop! And the
candles are lighted! And--and----"

"And all the tin-foil buds have bloomed into presents!" laughed Derry
Willard.

"Oh, no, of course--not _all_ of them," said mother.

"No tree ever fulfills every bud," said my father.

"There's Carol's camel, of course," laughed Rosalee. "Ever since Carol
was big enough to wish, he's always wished for a camel!"

"But mostly, of course," I insisted, "he wishes for kites! He got nine
kites last Christmas."

"Kites?" murmured young Derry Willard.

"_Kites!_" I said. "I _have_ to talk a good deal. Once always for
myself. And all over again for Carol." It seemed a good time to talk for
Carol. Perhaps a person who came all the way from Cuba could tell us the
thing we wanted to know. "Oh, Carol's very much interested in kites!" I
confided. "And in relationships! In Christmas relationships especially!
When he grows up he's going to be some sort of a jenny something--I
think it's an ologist! Or else keep a kite-shop!"

"Yes?" murmured young Derry Willard.

There are two ways I've noticed to make one listen to you. One is to
shout. The other is to whisper. I decided to whisper.

"You don't seem to understand," I whispered. "It's Christmas
relationships that are worrying Carol and me so! It worries us
dreadfully! Oh, of course we understand all about the Little Baby
Christ! And the camels! And the wise men! And the frankincense! That's
easy! But _who_ is Santa Claus? Unless--unless--?" It was Carol himself
who signaled me to go on. "Unless--he's the Baby Christ's
_grandfather_?" I thought Derry Willard looked a little bit startled.
Carol's ears turned bright red. "Oh, of course--we meant on his
_mother's_ side!" I hastened to assure him.

"It is, I admit, a new idea to me," said young Derry Willard. "But I
seem to have gotten several new ideas to-day."

He looked at mother. Mother's mouth looked very funny. He looked at
father. Father seemed to be sneezing. He looked at Rosalee. They laughed
together. His whole face suddenly was very laughing. "And what
becomes," he ask