"
Emily looked up wistfully.
"An' you are thinkin' he'll have _time_ t' come here wi' all th'
places t' go to? Oh, I'm wishin' he would!"
"I'll just make un--I'll just _make_ un," said her father. "I'll not
let un pass my maid _every_ time."
Emily was awake early the next morning--before daybreak. Her father
was about to start for the Post, and the dogs were straining and
jumping in the traces. She knew this because she could hear their
expectant howls,--and the dogs never howled just like that under any
other circumstances. Then she heard "hoo-ett--hoo-ett" as he gave them
the word to be off and, in the distance, as he turned them down the
brook to the right his shouts of "ouk! ouk! ouk!--ouk! ouk! ouk!"
It was a day of delightful expectancy. Tomorrow would be Christmas and
perhaps--perhaps--Santa Claus would come! She chattered all day to her
mother about it, wondering if he would really come and what he would
bring her.
Finally, just at nightfall she heard her father shouting at the dogs
outside and presently he came in carrying his komatik box, his beard
weighted with ice and his clothing white with hoar frost.
"Well," announced he, as he put down the box and pulled his adikey
over his head, "I were seein' Santa Claus th' day an' givin' he a rare
scoldin' for passin' my maid by these two year--a _rare_ scoldin'--an'
I'm thinkin' he'll not be passin' un by _this_ Christmas.
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