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