-night. If
he comes for folks that need something, I expect he'll come for you, and
carry you to some place where you'll have a chance to grow rich."

"Very likely," said Willie; "he'll clap me into his bag and trudge off
with me as a present to somebody--some old Cr[oe]sus, that will give me
a fortune for the asking. I do hope he will; for, if I don't get
something to do soon, I shall despair."

True now came in, and interrupted the conversation by the display of a
fine turkey, a Christmas present from Mr. Graham. He had also a book for
Gerty, a gift from Emily.

"Isn't that queer," exclaimed Gerty. "Willie was just saying you were my
Santa Clans, Uncle True; and I do believe you are." As she spoke she
opened the book, and in the frontispiece was a portrait of that
individual. "It looks like him, Willie, I declare it does!" shouted she;
"a fur cap, a pipe, and just such a pleasant face; oh, Uncle True, if
you only had a sack full of toys over your shoulder, instead of your
lantern and that great turkey, you would be a complete Santa Claus.
Haven't you got anything for Willie, Uncle True?"

"Yes, I've got a little something; but I'm afeared he won't think much
on't. It's only a bit of a note."

"A note for me?" inquired Willie. "Who can it be from?"

"Can't say," said True, fumbling in his pockets; "only just round the
corner I met a man who stopped me to inquire where Mrs. Sullivan lived.
I told him she lived jist here, and I'd show him the house. When he saw
I lived here too, he gave me this little scrap o' paper, and asked me to
hand it to Master William Sullivan. I s'pose that's you, an't it?" He
handed Willie the slip of paper; and the boy, taking True's lantern in
his hand, and holding the note up to the light, read aloud:--"R. H.
Clinton would like to see William Sullivan on Thursday morning, between
ten and eleven o'clock, at No. 13 ---- Wharf."

Willie looked up in amazement. "What does it mean?"? said he; "I don't
know any such person."

"I know who he is," said True; "why, it's he that lives in the great
stone house in ---- street. He's a rich man, and that's the number of
his store--his counting-room rather--on ---- Wharf!"

"What! father to those pretty children we used to see in the window?"

"The very same."

"What can he want of me?"

"Very likely he wants your sarvices," suggested True.

"Then it's a place!" cried Gerty, "a real good one, and Santa Claus came
and brought it: I said he wo