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"You're Father Christmas's brother!" The First Lieutenant hastily accepted this new mythology. "Quite right," he replied with gratitude, "quite right!" Then, as if realising that something further was required of him, added in a deep bass voice: "Fee! Fi! Fo! Fum!" White Bow screamed, and even Cornelius James the valiant fell back a pace.
Then I found that the cold thing was a dog's nose and the warm thing was his tongue; and Patty cried from her post of observation, 'It's Father Christmas's dog and he's licking your legs. "It really was the dirty little brown and white spaniel, and he persisted in licking me, and jumping on me, and making curious little noises, that must have meant something if one had known his language.
"As he passed us and met our earnest gaze, he smiled and nodded so earnestly that I was bold enough to cry, 'Good-evening, Father Christmas! "'Same to you! said he, in a high-pitched voice. "'Then you are Father Christmas? said Patty. "'And a happy New Year, was Father Christmas's reply, which rather put me out.
"'I wonder, Patty, said I, 'why there's no picture of Father Christmas's dog in the book. For at the old man's heels in the lane there crept a little brown and white spaniel looking very dirty in the snow. "'Perhaps it's a new dog that he's got to take care of his cave, said Patty.
Circumstances prevented the completion of the yard in exact accordance with plans, for experience, that harsh stepmother, proved that the enclosure was unnecessary. The yard exists as a monument to profane misunderstanding of Christmas's character.
Tell him his old Grandunk Christmas has got some important business for him to look after, and can't possibly get on without him more than a week or two longer. I shall expect a letter by return mail saying he has started. "Give Grandunk Christmas's love to Grandniece Ruth, and with respects to your husband, believe me to be, most truly, as ever, Your affectionate uncle,
Christmas's mother was a commonplace cart creature with a bad cough. It was a chronic cough, and in course of time its tuggings took her on a very long journey. She passed away, assisted towards the end with a cruel yet compassionate bullet, for in my agitation I made a fluky shot. She died on the beach, and as the tide rose we floated her carcass into the bay to the outer edge of the coral reef.
Challenge at Tilt, at a Marriage, printed 1640. Christmas's Masque, presented at court 1616. Cloridia, or the Rites of Cloris and her Nymphs, personated in a Masque at court, by the Queen and her Ladies, at Shrove Tide, 1630.
Father Christmas's brother had vanished. At that moment the Captain entered and sought his wife's eye. For a few moments they conferred in an undertone; then she laughed, that clear confident laugh of hers with which they had shared so many of life's perplexities. "Children!" she cried, "listen! Here's an adventure! We've all got to sleep on board to-night!"
The visitor from the bottom of the sea fumbled irresolutely with his trident. "Is it really Father Christmas's own brother?" queried a small sceptic, advancing warily. "Of course it is! Look here, look at all the things he's brought you," and in an undertone to the First Lieutenant, "Buck up, Number One, don't look so frightened!"
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