He would never notice us at all now."
Jack Dawson detected a tremor of sadness in the widow's voice as she
uttered the last words, and he wiped a suspicious dampness from his eyes.
"Where's our clean stockings, mamma? I'm going to hang mine up anyhow;
maybe he will come like he did before, just because we try to be good
children," said Totty.
"It will be no use, my darling, I am sure he will not come," and tears
gathered in the mother's eyes as she thought of her empty purse.
"I don't care, I'm going to try, anyhow. Please get one of my stockings,
mamma."
Jack Dawson's generous heart swelled until it seemed bursting from his
bosom. He heard the patter of little bare feet upon the cabin floor as
Totty ran about hunting hers and Benny's stockings, and after she had hung
them up, heard her sweet voice again as she wondered over and over if Santa
really would forget them. He heard the mother, in a choking voice; tell her
treasures to get ready for bed; heard them lisp their childish prayers, the
little girl concluding: "And, O, Lord! please tell good Santa Claus that we
are very poor; but that we love him as much as rich children do, for dear
Jesus' sake--Amen!"
After they were in bed, through a small rent in the plain white curtain he
saw the widow sitting before the fire, her face buried in her hands, and
weeping bitterly.
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