[Illustration: "_Mrs. Gratz watched the thin man search the chicken yard for toober-chlosis bugs_"] THE THIN SANTA CLAUS The Chicken Yard That Was a Christmas Stocking By ELLIS PARKER BUTLER _Illustrated by May Wilson Preston_ NEW YORK DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY MCMIX _Copyright, 1909, by_ DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY _Published, November, 1909_. Copyright, 1908, by The Curtis Publishing Company TO HARRY S. MOORE ILLUSTRATIONS "_Mrs. Gratz watched the thin man search the chicken yard fortoober-chlosis bugs_" Frontispiece "_He looked like a man who had lost nine hundred dollars, but he didnot look like Santa Claus_" THE THIN SANTA CLAUS Mrs. Gratz opened her eyes and looked out at the drizzle that made theChristmas morning gray. Her bed stood against the window, and it waseasy for her to look out; all she had to do was to roll over and pullthe shade aside. Having looked at the weather she rolled again on tothe broad flat of her back and made herself comfortable for awhile, for there was no reason why she should get up until she felt like it. "Such a Christmas!" she said good-naturedly to herself. "I guess suchweathers is bad for Santy Claus. Mebby it is because of such weathershe don't come by my house. I don't blame him. So muddy!" She let her eyes close indolently. Not yet was she hungry enough toimagine the tempting odour of fried bacon and eggs, and she idlyslipped into sleep again. She was in no hurry. She was never in ahurry. What is the use of being in a hurry when you own a good littlehouse and have money in the bank and are a widow? What is the use ofbeing in a hurry, anyway? Mrs. Gratz was always placid and fat, andshe always had been. What is the use of having money in the bank and agood little house if you are not placid and fat? Mrs. Gratz lay on herback and slept, placidly and fatly, with her mouth open, as if sheexpected Santa Claus to pass by and drop a present into it. Her dreamswere pleasant. It was no disappointment to Mrs. Gratz that Santa Claus had not cometo her house. She had not expected him. She did not even believe inhim. "Yes, " she had told Mrs. Flannery, next door, as she handed a littleparcel of toys over the fence for the little Flannerys, "once Ibelieves in such a Santy Claus myself, yet. I make me purty good timesthen. But now I'm too old. I don't believe in such things. But I makepurty good times, still. I have a good little house, and money in thebank--" Suddenly Mrs. Gratz closed her mouth and opened her eyes. She smelledimaginary bacon frying. She felt real hunger. She slid out of bed andbegan to dress herself, and she had just buttoned her red flannelpetticoat around her wide waist when she heard a silence, and paused. For a full minute she stood, trying to realize what the silencemeant. The English sparrows were chirping as usual and making enoughnoise, but through their bickerings the silence still annoyed Mrs. Gratz, and then, quite suddenly again, she knew. Her chickens were notmaking their usual morning racket. "I bet you I know what it is, sure, " she said, and continued to dressas placidly as before. When she went down she found that she had wonthe bet. A week before two chickens had been stolen from her coop, and she hadhad a strong padlock put on the chicken house. Now the padlock waspried open, and the chicken house was empty, and nine hens and arooster were gone. Mrs. Gratz stooped and entered the low gate andsurveyed the vacant chicken yard placidly. If they were gone, theywere gone. "Such a Santy Claus!" she said good-naturedly. "I don't like such aSanty Claus--taking away and not bringing! Purty soon he don't havesuch a good name any more if he keeps up doing like this. People likesthe bringing Santy Claus. I guess they don't think much of thetaking-away business. He gets a bad name quick enough if he does thismuch. " She turned to bend her head to look into the vacant chicken house andstood still. She put out her foot and touched something her eyes hadlighted upon, and the thing moved. It was a purse of worn, blackleather, soaked by the drizzle, but still holding the bend that comesto men's purses when worn long in a back trouser pocket. One end ofthe purse was muddy and pressed deep into the soft soil where a heelhad tramped on it. Mrs. Gratz bent and picked it up. There was nine hundred dollars in bills in the purse. Mrs. Gratz stoodstill while she counted the bills, and as she counted her hands beganto tremble, and her knees shook, and she sank on the door-sill of thechicken house and laughed until the tears rolled down her face. Occasionally she stopped to wipe her eyes, and the flood of laughtergradually died away into ripples of intermittent giggles that werelike sobs after sorrow. Mrs. Gratz had no great sense of humour, butshe could see the fun of finding nine hundred dollars. It was enoughto make her laugh, so she laughed. "Goodness, such a Santy Claus!" she exclaimed with a final sigh ofpleasure. "Such a Christmas present from Santy Claus! No wonder he isso fat yet when he eats ten chickens in one night already. But Idon't kick. I like me that Santy Claus all right. I believes in himpurty good after this, I bet!" She went at once to tell Mrs. Flannery, and Mrs. Flannery was far moreexcited about it than Mrs. Gratz had been. She said it was the Hand ofRetribution paying back the chicken thief, and the Hand of Justicerepaying Mrs. Gratz for sending toys to the little Flannerys, and PureLuck giving Mrs. Gratz what she always got, and a number of otherthings. "'Tis the luck of ye, Mrs. Gratz, ma'am, " she said, "and often I do besayin' it is the Dutch for luck, meanin' no disrespect to ye, and thefatter the luckier, as I often told me old man, rest his soul, and himso thin! And Christmas mornin' at that, ma'am, which is nothin' at allbut th' judgment of hivin on th' dirty chicken thief, pickin' such aday for his thievin', when there's plenty other days in th' year forhim. Keep th' money, ma'am, for 't is yours by good rights, and I knewthere would some good come till ye th' minute ye handed me th'prisints for the kids. The good folks sure all gits ther reward inthis world, only some don't, an' I'm only sorry mine is a pig instidof chickens, but not wishin' ye hadn't th' money yersilf, at all, butwho would come to steal a pig, and them such loud squealers? And whodo you suspicion it was, Mrs. Gratz, ma'am?" "I think mebby I got me a present from Santy Claus, yes?" said Mrs. Gratz. "And hear th' woman!" said Mrs. Flannery. "Do ye hear that now? Well, true for ye, ma'am, and stick to it, for there's no tellin' who'll beclaimin' th' money, and if ever Santy Claus brought a thing to amortal soul 't was him brought ye that. And 't was only yesterday yewas sayin' ye had no belief in him!" "Yesterday I don't have no beliefs in him, " said Mrs. Gratz. "To-day Ihave plenty of beliefs in him. I like him plenty. I don't care if hecomes every year. " "Sure not, " said Mrs. Flannery, "and you with th' nine hundred dollarsin yer pocket. I'd be glad of the chanst. I'd believe in him, mesilf, for four hundred and fifty. " That afternoon Mrs. Flannery, whose excitement had not abated in theleast, went over to Mrs. Gratz's to spend the afternoon talking to herabout the money. She felt that it was good to be that near it, at anyrate, and when one can make a whole afternoon's conversation out ofwhat Mrs. Casey said to Mrs. O'Reilly about Mrs. McNally, it is ashame to miss a chance to talk about nine hundred dollars. Mrs. Flannery was rocking violently and talking rapidly, and Mrs. Gratz wasslowly moving her rocker and answering in monosyllables, when some oneknocked at the door. Mrs. Gratz answered the knock. Her visitor was a tall, thin man, and he had a slouch hat, which heheld in his hands as he talked. He seemed nervous, and his face wore aworried look--extremely worried. He looked like a man who had lostnine hundred dollars, but he did not look like Santa Claus. He wasthinner and not so jolly-looking. At first Mrs. Gratz had no idea thatSanta Claus was standing before her, for he did not have a sleigh-bellabout him, and he had left his red cotton coat with the white battingtrimming at home. He stood in the door playing with his hat, unable tospeak. He seemed to have some delicacy about beginning. [Illustration: _"He looked like a man who had lost nine hundreddollars, but he did not look like Santa Claus"_] "Well, what it is?" said Mrs. Gratz. Her visitor pulled himself together with an effort. "Well, ma'am, I'll tell you, " he said frankly. "I'm a chicken buyer. Ibuy chickens. That's my business--dealin' in poultry--so I came outto-day to buy some chickens--" "On Christmas Day?" asked Mrs. Gratz. "Well, " said the man, moving uneasily from one foot to the other, "Idid come on Christmas Day, didn't I? I don't deny that, ma'am. I didcome on Christmas Day. I'd like to go out and have a look at yourchickens--" "It ain't so usual for buyers to come buying chickens on ChristmasDay, is it?" interposed Mrs. Gratz, good-naturedly. "Well, no, it ain't, and that's a fact, " said the man uneasily. "But Ialways do. The people I buy chickens for is just as apt to want to eatchicken one day as another day--and more so. Turkey on Christmas Day, and chicken the next, for a change--that's what they always tell me. So I have to buy chickens every day. I hate to, but I have to, and ifI could just go out and look around your chicken yard--" It was right there that Mrs. Gratz had a suspicion that Santa Clausstood before her. "But I don't sell such a chicken yard, yet, " she said. The man wipedhis forehead. "Sure not, " he said nervously. "I was goin' to say look around yourchicken yard and see the chickens. I can't buy chickens without I seethem, can I? Some folks might, but I can't with the kind of customersI've got. I've got mighty particular customers, and I pay extra pricesso as to get the best for them, and when I go out and look around thechicken yard--" "How much you pay for such nice, big, fat chickens, mebby?" asked Mrs. Gratz. "Well, I'll tell you, " said the man. "Seven cents a pound is regular, ain't it? Well, I pay twelve. I'll give you twelve cents, and pay youright now, and take all the chickens you've got. That's my rule. But, if you want to let me go out and see the chickens first, and pick outthe kind my regular customers like, I pay twenty cents a pound. But Iwon't pay twenty cents without I can see the chickens first. " "Sure, " said Mrs. Gratz. "I wouldn't do it, too. Mebby I go out andbring in a couple such chickens for you to look at? Yes?" "No, don't!" said the man impulsively. "Don't do it! It wouldn't be nogood. I've got to see the chickens on the hoof, as I might say. " "On the hoofs?" said Mrs. Gratz. "Such poultry don't have no hoofs. " "Runnin' around, " explained the visitor. "Runnin' around in the coop. I can tell if a chicken has got any disease that my trade wouldn'tlike, if I see it runnin' around in the coop. There's a lot in the waya chicken runs. In the way it h'ists up its leg, for instance. That'swhat the trade calls 'on the hoof. ' So I'll just go out and have alook around the coop--" "For twenty cents a pound anybody could let buyers see their chickenson the hoof, I guess, " said Mrs. Gratz. "Now, that's the way to talk!" exclaimed the man. "Only but I ain't got any such chickens, " said Mrs. Gratz. "So itain't of use to look how they walk. So good-bye. " "Now, say--" said the man, but Mrs. Gratz closed the door in his face. "I guess such a Santy Claus came back yet, " said Mrs. Gratz when shewent into the room where Mrs. Flannery was sitting. "But it ain't anyuse. He don't leave many more such presents. " "Th' impidince of him!" exclaimed Mrs. Flannery. "For nine hundred dollars I could be impudent, too, " said Mrs. Gratzcalmly. "But I don't like such nowadays Santy Clauses, coming back allthe time. Once, when I believes in Santy Clauses, they don't come backso much. " The thin Santa Claus had not gone far. He had crossed the street andstood gazing at Mrs. Gratz's door, and now he crossed again andknocked. Mrs. Gratz arose and went to the door. "I believe he comes back once yet, " she said to Mrs. Flannery, andopened the door. He had, indeed, come back. "Now see here, " he said briskly, "ain't your name Mrs. Gratz? Well, Iknowed it was, and I knowed you was a widow lady, and that's why Isaid I was a chicken buyer. I didn't want to frighten you. But I ain'tno chicken buyer. " "No?" asked Mrs. Gratz. "No, I ain't. I just said that so I could get a look at your chickenyard. I've got to see it. What I am is chicken-house inspector for theNinth Ward, and the Mayor sent me up here to inspect your chickenhouse, and I've got to do it before I go away, or lose my job. I'll goright out now, and it'll be all over in a minute--" "I guess it ain't some use, " said Mrs. Gratz. "I guess I don't keepany more chickens. They go too easy. Yesterday I have plenty, andto-day I haven't any. " "That's it!" said the thin Santa Claus. "That's just it! That's theway toober-chlosis bugs act--quick like that. They're a badepidemic--toober-chlosis bugs is. You see how they act--yesterday youhave chickens, and last night the toober-chlosis bugs gets at them, and this morning they've eat them all up. " "Goodness!" exclaimed Mrs. Gratz without emotion. "With the feddersand the bones, too?" "Sure, " said the thin Santa Claus. "Why, them toober-chlosis bugs isperfectly ravenous. Once they git started they eat feathers and bonesand feet and all--a chicken hasn't no chance at all. That's why theMayor sent me up here. He heard all your chickens was gone, and gonequick, and he says to me, 'Toober-chlosis bugs!' That's what he says, and he says, 'You ain't doing your duty. You ain't inspected Mrs. Gratz's chicken coop. You go and do it, or you're fired, see?' He saysthat, and he says, 'You inspect Mrs. Gratz's coop, and you kill offthem bugs before they git into her house and eat her all up--bones andall. '" "And fedders?" asked Mrs. Gratz calmly. "No, he didn't say feathers. This ain't nothing to fool about. It'sserious. So I'll go right out and have a look--" "I guess such bugs ain't been in _my_ coop last night, " said Mrs. Gratz carelessly. "I aint afraid of such bugs in winter time. " "Well, that's where you make your mistake, " said the thin Santa Claus. "Winter is just the bad time for them bugs. The more a toober-chlosisbug freezes up the more dangerous it is. In summer they ain't sobad--they're soft like and squash up when a chicken gits them, but inwinter they freeze up hard and git brittle. Then a chicken comes alongand grabs one, and it busts into a thousand pieces, and each pieceturns into a new toober-chlosis bug and busts into a thousand pieces, and so on, and the chicken gits all filled full of toober-chlosisbugs before it knows it. When a chicken snaps up one toober-chlosisbug it has a million in it inside of half an hour and that chickendon't last long, and when the bugs make for the house--What's that onyour dress there now?" Mrs. Gratz looked at her arm indifferently. "Nothing, " she said. "I thought mebby it was a toober-chlosis bug had got on you already, "said the thin Santa Claus. "If it was you would be all eat up insideof half an hour. Them bugs is awful rapacious. " "Yes?" inquired Mrs. Gratz with interest. "Such strong bugs, too, isit not?" "You bet they are strong--" began the stranger. "I should think so, " interrupted Mrs. Gratz, "to smash up padlocks onsuch chicken houses. You make me afraid of such bugs. I don't dare letyou go out there to get your bones and feet all eat up by them. Iguess not!" "Well, you see--you see--" said the thin Santa Claus, puzzled, andthen he cheered up. "You see, I ain't afraid of them. I've beenfumigated against them. Fumigated and antiskep--antiskepticized. I'vebeen vaccinated against them by the Board of Health. I'll show you themark on my arm, if you want to see it. " "No, don't, " said Mrs. Gratz. "I let you go and look in that chickencoop if you want to, but it ain't no use. There ain't nothing there. " The thin Santa Claus paused and looked at Mrs. Gratz with suspicion. "Why? Did you find it?" he asked. "Find what?" asked Mrs. Gratz innocently, and the thin Santa Claussighed and walked around to the back of the house. Mrs. Gratz wentwith him. As Mrs. Gratz watched the thin man search the chicken yard fortoober-chlosis bugs all doubt that he was her Santa Claus left hermind. He made a most minute investigation, but he did it more as a manmight search for a lost purse than as a health officer would searchfor germs. He even got down on his hands and knees and poked under thechicken house with a stick, and, when he had combed the chicken yardthoroughly and had looked all through the chicken house, he evensearched the denuded vegetable garden in the back yard, and lookedover the fence into Mrs. Flannery's yard. Evidently he was not pleasedwith his investigation, for he did not even say good-bye to Mrs. Gratz, but went away looking mad and cross. When Mrs. Gratz went into her house she took her seat in herrocking-chair and began rocking herself calmly and slowly. "'T was him done it, sure, " said Mrs. Flannery. "I don't like such come-agains, much, " said Mrs. Gratz placidly. "Itry me to believe in such a Santy Claus, but I like not suchcome-agains. In Germany did not Santy Claus come back so much. I don'tlike a Santy Claus should be so anxious. Still I believes in him, but, if he has too many such come-agains, I don't believe in him much. " "I would be settin' th' police on him, Santy Claus or no Santy Claus, "said Mrs. Flannery vindictively; "th' mean chicken thief!" "Oh, " said Mrs. Gratz easily, "I guess I don't care much should anine-hundred-dollar Santy Claus steal some chickens. I ain't mad. " But she was a little provoked when another knock came at the door afew minutes later, and when, on opening it, she saw the thin SantaClaus before her again. "So!" she said, "Santy Claus is back yet once!" "What's that?" asked the man suspiciously. "I say, what it is you want?" said Mrs. Gratz. "Oh!" said the man. "Well, I ain't a-goin' to fool with you no longer, Mrs. Gratz. I'm a-goin' to tell you right out what I am and who I am. I'm a detective of the police, and I'm looking up a mighty badcharacter. " "I guess I know right where you find one, " said Mrs. Gratz politely. "Now, don't be funny, " said the thin Santa Claus peevishly. "Mebby younoticed I didn't say nothing when you spoke about that padlock beingbusted? Mebby you noticed how careful I looked over your chicken coop, and how I looked over the fence into the next yard? Well, I won't foolyou. I ain't no chicken-yard inspector, and I ain't no chickenbuyer--them was just my detective disguises. I'm out detecting achicken thief--just a plain, ordinary chicken thief--and what I comefor is clues. " "Yes?" said Mrs. Gratz. "And what is it, such cloos? I haven't anyclooses. " The thin Santa Claus seemed provoked. "Now, look here!" he said. "You may think this is funny, but itisn't. I have got to catch that chicken thief or I'll lose my job, and I can't catch him unless I have some clues to catch him with. Now, didn't you have some chickens stolen last night?" "Chickens?" asked Mrs. Gratz. "No, I didn't have chickens stolen. Suchtoober-chlosis bugs eat them. With fedders, too. And bones. Right offthe hoofs, ain't it a pity?" It may have been a blush of shame, but it was more like a flush ofanger, that overspread the face of the thin Santa Claus. He staredhard at the placid German face of Mrs. Gratz, and decided she was toostupid to mean it--that she was not teasing him. "You don't catch on, " he said. "You see, there ain't any such thingsas toober-chlosis bugs. I just made that up as a sort of detectivedisguise. Them chickens wasn't eat by no bugs at all--they was stole. See? A chicken thief come right into the coop and stole them. Do youthink any kind of a bug could pry off a padlock?" Mrs. Gratz seemed to let this sink into her mind and to revolve there, and get to feeling at home, before she answered. "No, " she said at length, "I guess not. But Santy Claus could do it. Such a big, fat man. Sure he could do it. " "Why, you--" began the thin man crossly, and then changed his tone. "There ain't no such thing as Santy Claus, " he said as one might speakto a child--but even a chicken thief would not tell a child such athing, I hope. "No?" queried Mrs. Gratz sadly. "No Santy Claus? And I was scared ofit, myself, with such toober-chlosis bugs around. He should not tohave gone into such a chicken coop with so many bugs busting up allover. He had a right to have fumigated himself, once. And now heain't. He's all eat up, on the hoof, bones, and feet and all. And sucha kind man, too. " The thin Santa Claus frowned. He had half an idea that Mrs. Gratz wasfooling with him, and when he spoke it was crisply. "Now, see here, " he said, "last night somebody broke into your chickencoop and stole all your chickens. I know that. And he's been stealingchickens all around this town, and all around this part of thecountry, too, and I know that. And this stealing has got to stop. I'vegot to catch that thief. And to catch him I've got to have a clue. Aclue is something he has left around, or dropped, where he wasstealing. Now, did that chicken thief drop any clues in your chickenyard? That's what I want to know--did he drop any clues?" "Mebby, if he dropped some cloos, those toober-chlosis bugs eat themup, " suggested Mrs. Gratz. "They eats bones and fedders; mebby theyeats cloos, too. " "Now, ain't that smart?" sneered the thin Santa Claus. "Don't youthink you're funny? But I'll tell you the clue I'm looking for. Didthat thief drop a pocketbook, or anything like that?" "Oh, a pocketbook!" said Mrs. Gratz. "How much should be in such apocketbook, mebby?" "Nine hundred dollars, " said the thin Santa Claus promptly. "Goodness!" exclaimed Mrs. Gratz. "So much money all in one cloos!Come out to the chicken yard once; I'll help hunt for cloos, too. " The thin Santa Claus stood a minute looking doubtfully at Mrs. Gratz. Her face was large and placid and unemotional. "Well, " he said with a sigh, "it ain't much use, but I'll try itagain. " When he had gone, after another close search of the chicken yard andcoop, Mrs. Gratz returned to her friend, Mrs. Flannery. "Purty soon I don't belief any more in Santy Claus at all, " she said. "Purty soon I have more beliefs in chicken thiefs than in Santy Claus. Yet a while I beliefs in him, but, one more of those come-agains, andI don't. " "He'll not be comin' back any more, " said Mrs. Flannery positively. "I'm wonderin' he came at all, and the jail so handy. All ye have t'do is t' call a cop. " "Sure!" said Mrs. Gratz. "But it is not nice I should put Santy Clausin jail. Such a liberal Santy Claus, too. " "Have it yer own way, ma'am, " said Mrs. Flannery. "I'll own 'tis somedifferent whin chickens is stole. 'Tis hard to expind th' affectionson a bunch of chickens, but, if any one was t' steal my pig, t' jailhe would go, Santy Claus or no Santy Claus. Not but what ye have akind heart anyway, ma'am, not wantin' t' put th' poor fellow in jailwhin he has already lost nine hundred dollars, which, goodness knows, ye might have t' hand back, was th' law t' take a hand in it. " "So!" said Mrs. Gratz. "Such is the law, yet? All right, I don'tbelief in chicken thiefs, no matter how much he comes again. I stickme to Santy Claus. Always will I belief in Santy Claus. Chickenthiefs gives, and wants to take away again, but Santy Claus is alwaysgiving and never taking. " "Ye 're fergettin' th' chickens that was took, " suggested Mrs. Flannery. "Took?" said Mrs. Gratz. "Tooken, " Mrs. Flannery corrected. "Tooked?" said Mrs. Gratz. "I beliefs me not in Santy Claus that way. I beliefs he is a good old man. For givings I beliefs in Santy Claus, but for takings I beliefs in toober-chlosis bugs. " "An' th' busted padlock, then?" asked Mrs. Flannery. "Ach!" exclaimed Mrs. Gratz. "Them reindeers is so frisky, yet. Theyhave a right to kick up and bust it, mebby. " Mrs. Flannery sighed. "'T is a grand thing t' have faith, ma'am, " she said. "Y-e-s, " said Mrs. Gratz indolently, "that's nice. And it is nice tohave nine hundred dollars more in the bank, ain't it?" THE END BY THE SAME AUTHOR _That Pup_ _The Great American Pie Company_ _Pigs is Pigs_ _Mike Flannery on Duty and Off_ _Kilo_ Little Comic Masterpieces PIGS IS PIGS By ELLIS PARKER BUTLER The comic classic that made the Nation laugh. Nearly 200, 000 copieshave been sold. THE GREAT AMERICAN PIE COMPANY By ELLIS PARKER BUTLER "If read aloud in his presence it would convulse a wooden Indian. "_Des Moines Mail and Times_. A GOOD SAMARITAN By MARY RAYMOND SHIPMAN ANDREWS This has been called the best story that ever appeared in _McClure'sMagazine_. A really humorous tale of an inebriated youth. BREEZY By J. GEORGE FREDERICK A breezily humorous, great little business story. Breezy is distinctlyan American product, and his success is an inspiration. THE PETS By HENRY WALLACE PHILLIPS Red Saunders's curious menagerie, and the tale of a "scrap" that willmake you weep for joy. MIKE FLANNERY By ELLIS PARKER BUTLER Mike Flannery, the express agent of "Pigs is Pigs" fame, in some moregenuinely laughable situations. THAT PUP By ELLIS PARKER BUTLER The funniest dog story in years, "One prolonged howl of laughter. "_Springfield Union_. THE BIG STRIKE AT SIWASH By GEORGE FITCH One of the most rousingly funny football stories that have everappeared in print, by our new humorist. WARRIOR, THE UNTAMED By WILL IRWIN What happened after Warrior, the "man-eating" lion of Paradise Park, broke his bonds and made straight for the open country. LITTLE MAUD By CHARLES BATTELL LOOMIS This delightful story by Mr. Loomis is known to millions ofEnglish-speaking people all over the world. EACH, ILLUSTRATED, 50 CENTS Doubleday, Page & Company