roke Otis up in business. 'It ain't a girl sled,' sez
he, 'and its name ain't "Snow Queen"! I'm a-goin' to call it "Dan'l
Webster," or "Ol'ver Optic," or "Sheriff Robbins," or after some other
big man!' An' the boys plagued him so much about that pesky girl sled
that he scratched off the name, an', as I remember, it _did_ go better
after that!

"About the only thing," continued Joel, "that marred the harmony of
the occasion, as the editor of the _Hampshire County Phoenix_ used to
say, was the ashes that Deacon Morris Frisbie sprinkled out in front
of his house. He said he wasn't going to have folks breakin' their
necks jest on account of a lot of frivolous boys that was goin' to the
gallows as fas' as they could! Oh, how we hated him! and we'd have
snowballed him, too, if we hadn't been afraid of the constable that
lived next door. But the ashes didn't bother us much, and every time
we slid side-saddle we'd give the ashes a kick, and that sort of
scattered 'em."

The bare thought of this made Santa Claus laugh.

"Goin' on about nine o'clock," said Joel, "the girls come
along--Sister Elvira an' Thankful, Prudence Tucker, Belle Yocum,
Sophrone Holbrook, Sis Hubbard, an' Marthy Sawyer. Marthy's brother
Increase wanted her to ride on _his_ sled, but Marthy allowed that a
red sled was her choice every time. 'I don't see how I'm goin' to
hold on,' said Marthy. 'Seems as if I would hev my hands full keepin'
my things from blowin' away.' 'Don't worry about yourself, Marthy,'
sez I, 'for if you'll look after your things, I kind o' calc'late I'll
manage not to lose _you_ on the way.' Dear Marthy--seems as if I could
see you now, with your tangled hair a-blowin' in the wind, your eyes
all bright and sparklin', an' your cheeks as red as apples. Seems,
too, as if I could hear you laughin' and callin', jist as you did as I
toiled up the old New England hill that Chris'mas mornin'--a-callin':
'Joel, Joel, Joel--ain't ye ever comin', Joel?' But the hill is long
and steep, Marthy, an' Joel ain't the boy he used to be; he's old, an'
gray, an' feeble, but there's love an' faith in his heart, an' they
kind o' keep him totterin' tow'rd the voice he hears a-callin': 'Joel,
Joel, Joel!'"

"I know--I see it all," murmured Santa Claus very softly.

"Oh, that was so long ago," sighed Joel; "so very long ago! And I've
had no Chris'mas since--only once, when our little one--Marthy's an'
mine--you remember him, Santa Claus?"

"Yes," said Sa