But the ashes didn't bother us much, and every time
we slid side-saddle we'd give the ashes a kick, and that sort of
scattered 'em."
The bare thought of this made Santa Claus laugh.
"Goin' on about nine o'clock," said Joel, "the girls come
along--Sister Elvira an' Thankful, Prudence Tucker, Belle Yocum,
Sophrone Holbrook, Sis Hubbard, an' Marthy Sawyer. Marthy's brother
Increase wanted her to ride on _his_ sled, but Marthy allowed that a
red sled was her choice every time. 'I don't see how I'm goin' to
hold on,' said Marthy. 'Seems as if I would hev my hands full keepin'
my things from blowin' away.' 'Don't worry about yourself, Marthy,'
sez I, 'for if you'll look after your things, I kind o' calc'late I'll
manage not to lose _you_ on the way.' Dear Marthy--seems as if I could
see you now, with your tangled hair a-blowin' in the wind, your eyes
all bright and sparklin', an' your cheeks as red as apples. Seems,
too, as if I could hear you laughin' and callin', jist as you did as I
toiled up the old New England hill that Chris'mas mornin'--a-callin':
'Joel, Joel, Joel--ain't ye ever comin', Joel?' But the hill is long
and steep, Marthy, an' Joel ain't the boy he used to be; he's old, an'
gray, an' feeble, but there's love an' faith in his heart, an' they
kind o' keep him totterin' tow'rd the voice he hears a-callin': 'Joel,
Joel, Joel!'"
"I know--I see it all," murmured Santa Claus very softly.
"Oh, that was so long ago," sighed Joel; "so very long ago! And I've
had no Chris'mas since--only once, when our little one--Marthy's an'
mine--you remember him, Santa Claus?"
"Yes," said Santa Claus, "a toddling little boy with blue eyes--"
"Like his mother," interrupted Joel; "an' he _was_ like her, too--so
gentle an' lovin', only we called him Joel, for that was my father's
name and it kind o' run in the fam'ly.
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