“Where’s the-Ah!” The lights came on.īefore the fireplace, by the Christmas tree, stood a slender, dark-haired little girl wearing a red jacket and skirt, both trimmed with white fur. “In the living room, I think.”įor a moment all was silence in the darkened living room. “It was more like ‘grat,’” said his younger brother, Arthur, from his bed. It was two nights before Christmas, and all through the house not a Lambchop was stirring, but something was. The name LAMBCHOP was printed across the top, and an address. The girl thought for a moment, and an idea came to her. My father says be careful driving, there are lots of bad drivers this time of year. So I’m just writing to say don’t bother about me.
I was going to ask for new clothes, but my mother already bought them. I am a regular boy, except that I got flat, the letter said.
In the little office at the back of the house, the girl studied the letter her mother had mentioned, framed with others on a wall: “It’s not fair! Really! I mean, everything’s ready! Why-” Think of your favorite letter, the one by your desk! He just growled at me!” “They’ve lost faith, don’t care anymore, he says! Surely not everyone, I said. “He’s been so cross lately, but I never-” “He won’t go this year, he says!” The mother sobbed. “Don’t slam the door, dear,” said her mother, weeping. “Well done, elves! Good work!”īut at home in Snow City Square, all was not well. “Don’t trust us, eh? … Snooping, we call this, Miss!”
In the Wrap Shed the gifts lay ready, wrapped now in gay paper with holly and pine cones, sorted by country, by city or village, by road or lane or street. In the great workshops-the Doll Room, the Toy Plant, the Game Mill-Gift Elves had filled the orders, taking care as to color and size and style. She was the sort of little girl who liked to be sure of things, so she went all over Snow City, checking up.Īt the Post Office, Mail Elves had read the letters, making lists of who wanted what.
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