you're not bound to have, but Christmas isn't like any other time. I
spend millions in my mind at Christmas. Have you bought all your
things, Mr.--Mr.--don't even know your name." She laughed. "What's
your name, Mr. Man?"

Van Landing hesitated. Caution and reserve were inherent
characteristics. Before the child's eyes they faded.

"Van Landing," he said. "Stephen Van Landing."

"Mine is Carmencita. Father named me that because when I was a teensy
baby I kicked my feet so, and loved my tambourine best of all my
things. Have you bought all your Christmas gifts, Mr. Van--I don't
remember the other part."

"I haven't any to buy--and no one to buy for. That is--"

"Good gracious!" The child turned quickly; in her eyes and voice
incredulity was unrestrained. "I didn't know there was anybody in all
the world who didn't have anybody to buy for! Are you--are you very
poor, Mr. Van? You look very nice."

"I think I must be very poor." Van Landing fastened his glasses more
securely on his nose. "I'm quite sure of it. It has been long since I
cared to buy Christmas presents. I give a few, of course, but--"

"And don't you have Christmas dinner at home, and hang up your
stocking, and buy toys and things for children, and hear the music in
the churches? I know a lot of carols. Father taught me. I'll sing one
for you. Want me? Oh, I believe they are coming out! Father said they