shorn of its glory, at least on one side. Maybe she could split what was left on the other side, and reborder it all with narrower bands. But even if she could n’t, she must take it. The train was leaping on through the night. There was no time to spare.
Snip! snip! went the witch scissors, and the long strip of cherry satin was loose in her hands. Twenty minutes later two bright red stockings lay on the seat in front of her, bordered with silver tinsel. She had run the seams hastily with white thread, all she had with her, but the stitches did not show, being on the inside. Even if they had pulled themselves into view in places, all defects in sewing were hidden by the tinsel with which the stockings were bordered. She had unwound it from a wand which she was carrying home with several other favors from the german of the night before. The wand was so long that it went into her suitcase only by laying it in diagonally. It had been wrapped around and around with yards of tinsel, tipped with a silver-gauze butterfly.
While she stitched, she tried to think of something to put into the stockings. Her only hope was in the train-boy, and she sent the porter to bring him. But when he came, he had little to offer. As it was Christmas eve, everybody had wanted his wares, and he was nearly sold out. Not a nut, not an apple, not even a package of chewing-gum could he produce. But he did have, somewhere among his things, he said, two little toy lanterns, with red glass sides, filled with small mixed candies, and he had several oranges left. Earlier in the day he had had small glass pistols filled with candy. He departed to get the stock still on hand.
When the lanterns proved to be miniature conductor’s lanterns, Miss Santa Claus could have clapped her hands with satisfaction. Children who played train so much would be delighted with them. She thrust one into each stocking with an orange on top. They just filled the legs, but there was a dismal limpness of foot which sadly betrayed its emptiness. With another glance at her watch, Miss Santa Claus hurried back to the dining-car. The tables were nearly empty, and she found the steward by the door. She showed him the stockings and implored him to think of something to help fill them. Had n’t he nuts, raisins, anything, even little cakes, that she could get in a hurry?
He suggested salted almonds and after-dinner mints, and sent a waiter flying down the aisle to get some. While she waited, she explained that they were for two children who had come by themselves all the way from the Junction. It was little Will'm’s first ride on a Pullman. The words “Junction” and “Will’m” seemed to recall something to the steward.
“I wonder if it could be the same little chap who found my locket,” he said. “I took his name, intending to send him something Christmas, but was so busy I never thought of it again.”
The waiter was back with the nuts and mints. Miss Santa Claus paid for them, and hurriedly returned to the state-room. She had to search through her things again to find some tissue-paper to wrap the salted almonds in. They 'd spoil the red satin if put in without covering. While she was doing it the steward came to the door.
“I beg pardon, miss,” he said, ‘“but would you mind showing me the little fellow? If it is the same one, I ’d like to leave him a small trick I ’ve got here.”
She pointed down the aisle to the seat where Will'm lay sound asleep, one dimpled fist cuddled under his soft chin. After a moment’s smiling survey, the man came back.
“That ’s the kid, all right,”” he told her. “And he seemed to be so powerful fond of anything that has to do with a train, I thought it would please him to find this in his stocking.”
He handed her a small-sized conductor’s punch. “I use it to keep tally on the order cards,” he explained, “but I won’t need it on the rest of this run.”
“How lovely!” exclaimed Miss Santa Claus. “I know he ’ll be delighted, and I ’m much obliged to you myself, for helping me make his stocking fuller and nicer.”
She opened the magazine after he had gone, and, just to try the punch, closed it down on one of the leaves. Clip it went, and the next instant she uttered a soft little cry of pleasure. The clean-cut hole that the punch had made in the margin was star-shaped, and on her lap, where it had fallen from the punch, was a tiny white paper star.
“Oh, it will help him to remember the charm!” she whispered, her eyes shining with the happy thought. “If I only had some kind of a reminder for Libby, too!”
Then, all of a sudden came another message, straight from the sky road! She could give Libby the little gold ring which had fallen to her lot the night before in her slice of the birthday cake. There had been a ring, a thimble, and a dime in the cake, and she had drawn the ring. It was so small, just a child’s size, that she could n’t wear it, but she was taking it home to put in her memory book. It had been such a beautiful evening that she wanted to mark it with that little