snip with her scissors, and there in her fingers was a soft fuzzy ball. When she had snipped some more, and trimmed it all over, smooth and even, it looked like a little red cherry. In almost no time she had two wool cherries lying in her lap. She was just beginning the third when the big ball of yarn slipped out of her fingers, and rolled across the aisle right under Libby’s feet. She sprang to pick it up and take it back.
“Thank you, dear,” was all that Miss Santa Claus said; but such a smile went with it that Libby, smoothing her skirts over her knees as she primly took her seat again, felt happier than she had since leaving the Junction. It was n't two minutes till the ball slipped and rolled away again. This time Will'm picked it up, and she thanked him in the same way. But very soon, when both scissors and ball spilled out of her lap and Libby politely brought her one and Will'm the other, she did not take them.
“I wonder,” she said, “if you children could n’t climb up here on the seat with me and hold this old Jack and Jill of a ball and scissors. Every time one falls down and almost breaks its crown, the other goes tumbling after. I 'm in such a hurry to get through. Could n’t you stay and help me a few minutes?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Libby, primly and timidly, sitting down on the edge of the opposite seat with the ball in her hands. Miss Santa Claus put an arm around Will'm and drew him up on the seat beside her. “There,” she said. “You hold the scissors, Will'm, and when I 'm through winding the ball that Libby holds, I ’ll ask you to cut the yarn for me. Did you ever see such scissors, Libby? They 're made in the shape of a witch, See! she sits upon the handles, and when the blades are closed, they make the peak of her long, pointed cap. They came from the old witch town of Salem.”
Libby darted a half-frightened look at her. She had called them both by name! Had she been listening down the chimney, too? And those witch scissors! They looked as if they might be a charm to open all sorts of secrets. Maybe she knew some charm to keep stepmothers from being cruel. Oh, if she only dared to ask! Of course Libby knew that one must n't “pick up” with strangers and tell them things. Miss Sally had warned her against that. But this was different. Miss Santa Claus was more than just a person.
If Pan were to come piping out of the woods, who, with any music in him, would not respond with all his heart to the magic call? If Titania were to beckon with her gracious wand, who would not be drawn into her charmed circle gladly? So it was these two little wayfarers heard the call and swayed to the summons of one who not only shed the influence, but shared the name of the wonderful Spirit of Yule.
CHAPTER VI
THE STAR-FLOWER CHARM
“There!” she exclaimed, holding it up for them to admire. “That is to go in the stocking of a poor little fellow no larger than Willm. He ’s lame, and has to stay in bed all the time, and he asked Santa Claus to bring him something soft and warm to put on when he is propped up in bed to look at his toys.”
Out of a dry throat Libby at last brought up the question she had been trying to find courage for:
“Is Santa Claus your father?”
“No, but Father and Uncle Norse are so much like him that people often get them all mixed up, just as they do twins, and since Uncle Santa has grown so busy, he gets Father to attend to a great deal of his business. In fact, our whole family has to help. He could n’t possibly get around to everybody as he used to when the cities were smaller and fewer. Lately, he has been leaving more and more of his work to us. He ’s even taken to adopting people into his family so that they can help him. In almost every city in the world now, he has an adopted brother or sister or relative of some sort, and sometimes children not much bigger than you ask to be counted as members of his family. It ’s so much fun to help.”
Libby pondered over this news a moment before she asked another question: “Then does he come to see them and tell them what to do?”
“No, indeed! Nobody ever sees him. He just sends messages, something like wireless telegrams. You know what they are?”
Libby shook her head. She had never heard of them. Miss Santa Claus explained. “And his messages pop into your head just that way,” she added. “I was as busy as I could be one day, studying my algebra lesson, when all of a sudden, pop came the thought into my head that lit-
