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diff --git a/17937.txt b/17937.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1db95ee --- /dev/null +++ b/17937.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1078 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Thin Santa Claus, by Ellis Parker Butler + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Thin Santa Claus + The Chicken Yard That Was a Christmas Stocking + +Author: Ellis Parker Butler + +Illustrator: May Wilson Preston + +Release Date: March 6, 2006 [EBook #17937] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE THIN SANTA CLAUS *** + + + + +Produced by Jason Isbell, Emma Morgan Isbell, Sankar +Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team +at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + [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 for +toober-chlosis bugs_" Frontispiece + +"_He looked like a man who had lost nine hundred dollars, but he did +not look like Santa Claus_" + + + + +THE THIN SANTA CLAUS + + +Mrs. Gratz opened her eyes and looked out at the drizzle that made the +Christmas morning gray. Her bed stood against the window, and it was +easy for her to look out; all she had to do was to roll over and pull +the shade aside. Having looked at the weather she rolled again on to +the 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 such +weathers is bad for Santy Claus. Mebby it is because of such weathers +he 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 to +imagine the tempting odour of fried bacon and eggs, and she idly +slipped into sleep again. She was in no hurry. She was never in a +hurry. What is the use of being in a hurry when you own a good little +house and have money in the bank and are a widow? What is the use of +being in a hurry, anyway? Mrs. Gratz was always placid and fat, and +she always had been. What is the use of having money in the bank and a +good little house if you are not placid and fat? Mrs. Gratz lay on her +back and slept, placidly and fatly, with her mouth open, as if she +expected Santa Claus to pass by and drop a present into it. Her dreams +were pleasant. + +It was no disappointment to Mrs. Gratz that Santa Claus had not come +to her house. She had not expected him. She did not even believe in +him. + +"Yes," she had told Mrs. Flannery, next door, as she handed a little +parcel of toys over the fence for the little Flannerys, "once I +believes in such a Santy Claus myself, yet. I make me purty good times +then. But now I'm too old. I don't believe in such things. But I make +purty good times, still. I have a good little house, and money in the +bank--" + +Suddenly Mrs. Gratz closed her mouth and opened her eyes. She smelled +imaginary bacon frying. She felt real hunger. She slid out of bed and +began to dress herself, and she had just buttoned her red flannel +petticoat around her wide waist when she heard a silence, and paused. +For a full minute she stood, trying to realize what the silence +meant. The English sparrows were chirping as usual and making enough +noise, but through their bickerings the silence still annoyed Mrs. +Gratz, and then, quite suddenly again, she knew. Her chickens were not +making their usual morning racket. + +"I bet you I know what it is, sure," she said, and continued to dress +as placidly as before. When she went down she found that she had won +the bet. + +A week before two chickens had been stolen from her coop, and she had +had a strong padlock put on the chicken house. Now the padlock was +pried open, and the chicken house was empty, and nine hens and a +rooster were gone. Mrs. Gratz stooped and entered the low gate and +surveyed the vacant chicken yard placidly. If they were gone, they +were gone. + +"Such a Santy Claus!" she said good-naturedly. "I don't like such a +Santy Claus--taking away and not bringing! Purty soon he don't have +such a good name any more if he keeps up doing like this. People likes +the bringing Santy Claus. I guess they don't think much of the +taking-away business. He gets a bad name quick enough if he does this +much." + +She turned to bend her head to look into the vacant chicken house and +stood still. She put out her foot and touched something her eyes had +lighted upon, and the thing moved. It was a purse of worn, black +leather, soaked by the drizzle, but still holding the bend that comes +to men's purses when worn long in a back trouser pocket. One end of +the purse was muddy and pressed deep into the soft soil where a heel +had tramped on it. Mrs. Gratz bent and picked it up. + +There was nine hundred dollars in bills in the purse. Mrs. Gratz stood +still while she counted the bills, and as she counted her hands began +to tremble, and her knees shook, and she sank on the door-sill of the +chicken house and laughed until the tears rolled down her face. +Occasionally she stopped to wipe her eyes, and the flood of laughter +gradually died away into ripples of intermittent giggles that were +like sobs after sorrow. Mrs. Gratz had no great sense of humour, but +she could see the fun of finding nine hundred dollars. It was enough +to make her laugh, so she laughed. + +"Goodness, such a Santy Claus!" she exclaimed with a final sigh of +pleasure. "Such a Christmas present from Santy Claus! No wonder he is +so fat yet when he eats ten chickens in one night already. But I +don't kick. I like me that Santy Claus all right. I believes in him +purty good after this, I bet!" + +She went at once to tell Mrs. Flannery, and Mrs. Flannery was far more +excited about it than Mrs. Gratz had been. She said it was the Hand of +Retribution paying back the chicken thief, and the Hand of Justice +repaying Mrs. Gratz for sending toys to the little Flannerys, and Pure +Luck giving Mrs. Gratz what she always got, and a number of other +things. + +"'Tis the luck of ye, Mrs. Gratz, ma'am," she said, "and often I do be +sayin' it is the Dutch for luck, meanin' no disrespect to ye, and the +fatter the luckier, as I often told me old man, rest his soul, and him +so thin! And Christmas mornin' at that, ma'am, which is nothin' at all +but th' judgment of hivin on th' dirty chicken thief, pickin' such a +day for his thievin', when there's plenty other days in th' year for +him. Keep th' money, ma'am, for 't is yours by good rights, and I knew +there would some good come till ye th' minute ye handed me th' +prisints for the kids. The good folks sure all gits ther reward in +this world, only some don't, an' I'm only sorry mine is a pig instid +of chickens, but not wishin' ye hadn't th' money yersilf, at all, but +who would come to steal a pig, and them such loud squealers? And who +do 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 be +claimin' th' money, and if ever Santy Claus brought a thing to a +mortal soul 't was him brought ye that. And 't was only yesterday ye +was sayin' ye had no belief in him!" + +"Yesterday I don't have no beliefs in him," said Mrs. Gratz. "To-day I +have plenty of beliefs in him. I like him plenty. I don't care if he +comes every year." + +"Sure not," said Mrs. Flannery, "and you with th' nine hundred dollars +in 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 the +least, went over to Mrs. Gratz's to spend the afternoon talking to her +about the money. She felt that it was good to be that near it, at any +rate, and when one can make a whole afternoon's conversation out of +what Mrs. Casey said to Mrs. O'Reilly about Mrs. McNally, it is a +shame to miss a chance to talk about nine hundred dollars. Mrs. +Flannery was rocking violently and talking rapidly, and Mrs. Gratz was +slowly moving her rocker and answering in monosyllables, when some one +knocked at the door. Mrs. Gratz answered the knock. + +Her visitor was a tall, thin man, and he had a slouch hat, which he +held in his hands as he talked. He seemed nervous, and his face wore a +worried look--extremely worried. He looked like a man who had lost +nine hundred dollars, but he did not look like Santa Claus. He was +thinner and not so jolly-looking. At first Mrs. Gratz had no idea that +Santa Claus was standing before her, for he did not have a sleigh-bell +about him, and he had left his red cotton coat with the white batting +trimming at home. He stood in the door playing with his hat, unable to +speak. He seemed to have some delicacy about beginning. + +[Illustration: _"He looked like a man who had lost nine hundred +dollars, 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. I +buy chickens. That's my business--dealin' in poultry--so I came out +to-day to buy some chickens--" + +"On Christmas Day?" asked Mrs. Gratz. + +"Well," said the man, moving uneasily from one foot to the other, "I +did come on Christmas Day, didn't I? I don't deny that, ma'am. I did +come on Christmas Day. I'd like to go out and have a look at your +chickens--" + +"It ain't so usual for buyers to come buying chickens on Christmas +Day, is it?" interposed Mrs. Gratz, good-naturedly. + +"Well, no, it ain't, and that's a fact," said the man uneasily. "But I +always do. The people I buy chickens for is just as apt to want to eat +chicken 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 if +I could just go out and look around your chicken yard--" + +It was right there that Mrs. Gratz had a suspicion that Santa Claus +stood before her. + +"But I don't sell such a chicken yard, yet," she said. The man wiped +his forehead. + +"Sure not," he said nervously. "I was goin' to say look around your +chicken yard and see the chickens. I can't buy chickens without I see +them, can I? Some folks might, but I can't with the kind of customers +I've got. I've got mighty particular customers, and I pay extra prices +so as to get the best for them, and when I go out and look around the +chicken 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 you +right 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 out +the kind my regular customers like, I pay twenty cents a pound. But I +won'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 and +bring 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 no +good. 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't +like, if I see it runnin' around in the coop. There's a lot in the way +a chicken runs. In the way it h'ists up its leg, for instance. That's +what the trade calls 'on the hoof.' So I'll just go out and have a +look around the coop--" + +"For twenty cents a pound anybody could let buyers see their chickens +on 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 it +ain'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 she +went into the room where Mrs. Flannery was sitting. "But it ain't any +use. 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. Gratz +calmly. "But I don't like such nowadays Santy Clauses, coming back all +the time. Once, when I believes in Santy Clauses, they don't come back +so much." + +The thin Santa Claus had not gone far. He had crossed the street and +stood gazing at Mrs. Gratz's door, and now he crossed again and +knocked. Mrs. Gratz arose and went to the door. + +"I believe he comes back once yet," she said to Mrs. Flannery, and +opened the door. He had, indeed, come back. + +"Now see here," he said briskly, "ain't your name Mrs. Gratz? Well, I +knowed it was, and I knowed you was a widow lady, and that's why I +said I was a chicken buyer. I didn't want to frighten you. But I ain't +no chicken buyer." + +"No?" asked Mrs. Gratz. + +"No, I ain't. I just said that so I could get a look at your chicken +yard. I've got to see it. What I am is chicken-house inspector for the +Ninth Ward, and the Mayor sent me up here to inspect your chicken +house, and I've got to do it before I go away, or lose my job. I'll go +right 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 keep +any more chickens. They go too easy. Yesterday I have plenty, and +to-day I haven't any." + +"That's it!" said the thin Santa Claus. "That's just it! That's the +way toober-chlosis bugs act--quick like that. They're a bad +epidemic--toober-chlosis bugs is. You see how they act--yesterday you +have 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 fedders +and the bones, too?" + +"Sure," said the thin Santa Claus. "Why, them toober-chlosis bugs is +perfectly ravenous. Once they git started they eat feathers and bones +and feet and all--a chicken hasn't no chance at all. That's why the +Mayor sent me up here. He heard all your chickens was gone, and gone +quick, 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 says +that, and he says, 'You inspect Mrs. Gratz's coop, and you kill off +them bugs before they git into her house and eat her all up--bones and +all.'" + +"And fedders?" asked Mrs. Gratz calmly. + +"No, he didn't say feathers. This ain't nothing to fool about. It's +serious. 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-chlosis +bug freezes up the more dangerous it is. In summer they ain't so +bad--they're soft like and squash up when a chicken gits them, but in +winter they freeze up hard and git brittle. Then a chicken comes along +and grabs one, and it busts into a thousand pieces, and each piece +turns into a new toober-chlosis bug and busts into a thousand pieces, +and so on, and the chicken gits all filled full of toober-chlosis +bugs before it knows it. When a chicken snaps up one toober-chlosis +bug it has a million in it inside of half an hour and that chicken +don't last long, and when the bugs make for the house--What's that on +your 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 inside +of half an hour. Them bugs is awful rapacious." + +"Yes?" inquired Mrs. Gratz with interest. "Such strong bugs, too, is +it not?" + +"You bet they are strong--" began the stranger. + +"I should think so," interrupted Mrs. Gratz, "to smash up padlocks on +such chicken houses. You make me afraid of such bugs. I don't dare let +you go out there to get your bones and feet all eat up by them. I +guess not!" + +"Well, you see--you see--" said the thin Santa Claus, puzzled, and +then he cheered up. "You see, I ain't afraid of them. I've been +fumigated against them. Fumigated and antiskep--antiskepticized. I've +been vaccinated against them by the Board of Health. I'll show you the +mark on my arm, if you want to see it." + +"No, don't," said Mrs. Gratz. "I let you go and look in that chicken +coop 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 Claus +sighed and walked around to the back of the house. Mrs. Gratz went +with him. + +As Mrs. Gratz watched the thin man search the chicken yard for +toober-chlosis bugs all doubt that he was her Santa Claus left her +mind. He made a most minute investigation, but he did it more as a man +might search for a lost purse than as a health officer would search +for germs. He even got down on his hands and knees and poked under the +chicken house with a stick, and, when he had combed the chicken yard +thoroughly and had looked all through the chicken house, he even +searched the denuded vegetable garden in the back yard, and looked +over the fence into Mrs. Flannery's yard. Evidently he was not pleased +with 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 her +rocking-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. "I +try me to believe in such a Santy Claus, but I like not such +come-agains. In Germany did not Santy Claus come back so much. I don't +like 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 a +nine-hundred-dollar Santy Claus steal some chickens. I ain't mad." + +But she was a little provoked when another knock came at the door a +few minutes later, and when, on opening it, she saw the thin Santa +Claus 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 bad +character." + +"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 you +noticed I didn't say nothing when you spoke about that padlock being +busted? 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 fool +you. I ain't no chicken-yard inspector, and I ain't no chicken +buyer--them was just my detective disguises. I'm out detecting a +chicken thief--just a plain, ordinary chicken thief--and what I come +for is clues." + +"Yes?" said Mrs. Gratz. "And what is it, such cloos? I haven't any +clooses." + +The thin Santa Claus seemed provoked. + +"Now, look here!" he said. "You may think this is funny, but it +isn'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. Such +toober-chlosis bugs eat them. With fedders, too. And bones. Right off +the hoofs, ain't it a pity?" + +It may have been a blush of shame, but it was more like a flush of +anger, that overspread the face of the thin Santa Claus. He stared +hard at the placid German face of Mrs. Gratz, and decided she was too +stupid to mean it--that she was not teasing him. + +"You don't catch on," he said. "You see, there ain't any such things +as toober-chlosis bugs. I just made that up as a sort of detective +disguise. 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 you +think 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 speak +to a child--but even a chicken thief would not tell a child such a +thing, I hope. + +"No?" queried Mrs. Gratz sadly. "No Santy Claus? And I was scared of +it, myself, with such toober-chlosis bugs around. He should not to +have gone into such a chicken coop with so many bugs busting up all +over. He had a right to have fumigated himself, once. And now he +ain't. He's all eat up, on the hoof, bones, and feet and all. And such +a kind man, too." + +The thin Santa Claus frowned. He had half an idea that Mrs. Gratz was +fooling with him, and when he spoke it was crisply. + +"Now, see here," he said, "last night somebody broke into your chicken +coop and stole all your chickens. I know that. And he's been stealing +chickens all around this town, and all around this part of the +country, too, and I know that. And this stealing has got to stop. I've +got to catch that thief. And to catch him I've got to have a clue. A +clue is something he has left around, or dropped, where he was +stealing. Now, did that chicken thief drop any clues in your chicken +yard? That's what I want to know--did he drop any clues?" + +"Mebby, if he dropped some cloos, those toober-chlosis bugs eat them +up," suggested Mrs. Gratz. "They eats bones and fedders; mebby they +eats cloos, too." + +"Now, ain't that smart?" sneered the thin Santa Claus. "Don't you +think you're funny? But I'll tell you the clue I'm looking for. Did +that thief drop a pocketbook, or anything like that?" + +"Oh, a pocketbook!" said Mrs. Gratz. "How much should be in such a +pocketbook, 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 it +again." + +When he had gone, after another close search of the chicken yard and +coop, 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, and +I 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 Claus +in jail. Such a liberal Santy Claus, too." + +"Have it yer own way, ma'am," said Mrs. Flannery. "I'll own 'tis some +different whin chickens is stole. 'Tis hard to expind th' affections +on a bunch of chickens, but, if any one was t' steal my pig, t' jail +he would go, Santy Claus or no Santy Claus. Not but what ye have a +kind heart anyway, ma'am, not wantin' t' put th' poor fellow in jail +whin 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't +belief in chicken thiefs, no matter how much he comes again. I stick +me to Santy Claus. Always will I belief in Santy Claus. Chicken +thiefs gives, and wants to take away again, but Santy Claus is always +giving 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. They +have 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 to +have 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 copies +have 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's +Magazine_. A really humorous tale of an inebriated youth. + +BREEZY + +By J. GEORGE FREDERICK + +A breezily humorous, great little business story. Breezy is distinctly +an 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 will +make you weep for joy. + +MIKE FLANNERY + +By ELLIS PARKER BUTLER + +Mike Flannery, the express agent of "Pigs is Pigs" fame, in some more +genuinely 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 ever +appeared 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 of +English-speaking people all over the world. + +EACH, ILLUSTRATED, 50 CENTS + +Doubleday, Page & Company + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Thin Santa Claus, by Ellis Parker Butler + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE THIN SANTA CLAUS *** + +***** This file should be named 17937.txt or 17937.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/9/3/17937/ + +Produced by Jason Isbell, Emma Morgan Isbell, Sankar +Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team +at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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