Here is another story in Library Lady’s Christmas Stories series.
BILLY’S SANTA CLAUS EXPERIENCE
BY CORNELIA REDMOND
Edited by Jane Mouttet
Of course, I don’t believe in any person as Santa Claus, but Tommy does. Tommy is my little brother, aged six. Last Christmas, I thought I’d make some fun for the young one by playing Santa Claus, but as always happens when I try to amuse anybody, I just got myself into trouble.
I went to bed pretty early on Christmas Eve to give my parents a chance to get the presents out of the closet in Mamma’s room, where they had been locked up since they were bought. I kept my clothes except my shoes and put my nightgown over them so I’d look white if any of them came near me. Then I waited, pinching myself to keep awake. After a while, Papa entered the room with many things that he had dumped on Tommy’s bed. Then Mamma came in and put some stuff on mine and in our two stockings hung up by the chimney. Then they both went out quietly, and soon all the lights went out.
I kept pinching myself and waiting for a time, and when I was sure that everybody was asleep, I got up. The first thing I did was to enter my sister’s room, where I got her white fur rug that Mamma had given her on her birthday and her sealskin cape that was hanging on the closet door. I tied the cape on my head with shoestrings, making it a big cap. Then I put the fur rug around me and pinned it with oversized safety pins that I found on Tommy’s garters. Then I got Mamma’s new scrap basket, trimmed with roses, which Mrs. Simmons had embroidered for the church fair, and piled all the kids’ toys into it. I fastened it to my back with Papa’s suspenders and started for the roof.
I hurt my fingers opening the scuttle, but I kept right on. It was snowing hard, and I stood and let myself get pretty well covered with flakes. Then, I crawled over to the chimney that went down into our room and climbed up on top of it. I had brought my bicycle lantern with me, and I lit it so Tommy could see me when I came down the chimney into the room.
There were no places inside the chimney where I could hold on by my feet. Still, the ceiling in our room was not very high, and I had often jumped almost as far, so I just let go, and I suppose I went down. Anyway, I did not know about anything for a long time. Then I woke up all in the dark with my head feeling queer, and when I tried to turn over in bed, I found I wasn’t in bed at all, and then my arms and legs began to hurt terribly, mostly one arm that was doubled up. I tried to get up but I couldn’t because my bones hurt so and I was quite cold and there was nothing to stand on. I was just stuck. Then I began to cry, and pretty soon I heard Mamma’s voice saying to Papa: “Those must be sparrows that are making that noise in the chimney. Just touch a match to the wood in the boys’ fireplace.”
I heard Papa strike a light, and the wood began to crackle. Then, by jinks! It began to get hot and smoky, and I screamed:
“Help! Murder! Put out that fire unless you want to burn me up!”
Then I heard Papa stamping on the wood and Mamma calling out:
“Where’s Billy? Where is my child?”
Next, Tommy woke up and began to cry, and everything was terrible, especially the pain all over me. Then Papa called out sternly, “William, if you are in that chimney, come down at once!” I answered, crying, that I would if I could, but I was stuck and couldn’t.
Then I heard Papa gettin’ dressed, and pretty soon, he and John from the stable went up on the roof, let down ropes I had put around me, and hauled me up.
It was just daylight, and I was all black and sooty and scratched, and my arm was broken.
Everybody scolded me except Mamma. I had spoiled my sister’s white rug and broken all of Tommy’s toys, and the snow that went in through the scuttle melted and marked the parlor ceiling. Besides, it cost Papa a lot to get my arm mended. Nobody would believe that I had just meant to make some fun of Tommy, and my arm and all my bruised places hurt me awfully for a long time. I will never play Santa Claus again if I live to be a million.
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