Truly our Claus had wisdom, for his good fortune but strengthened his resolve to befriend the little ones of his own race. He knew his plan was approved by the immortals, else they would not have favored him so greatly.So he began at once to make acquaintance with mankind. He walked through the Valley to the plain beyond, and crossed the plain in many directions to reach the abodes of men. These stood singly or in groups of dwellings called villages, and in nearly all the houses, whether big or little, Claus found children.
The youngsters soon came to know his merry, laughing face and the kind
glance of his bright eyes; and the parents, while they regarded the
young man with some scorn for loving children more than their elders,
were content that the girls and boys had found a playfellow who seemed
willing to amuse them.
So the children romped and played games with Claus, and the boys rode
upon his shoulders, and the girls nestled in his strong arms, and the
babies clung fondly to his knees. Wherever the young man chanced to be,
the sound of childish laughter followed him; and to understand this
better you must know that children were much neglected in those days and
received little attention from their parents, so that it became to them
a marvel that so goodly a man as Claus devoted his time to making them
happy. And those who knew him were, you may be sure, very happy indeed.
The sad faces of the poor and abused grew bright for once; the cripple
smiled despite his misfortune; the ailing ones hushed their moans and
the grieved ones their cries when their merry friend came nigh to
comfort them.
Only at the beautiful palace of the Lord of Lerd and at the frowning
castle of the Baron Braun was Claus refused admittance. There were
children at both places; but the servants at the palace shut the door in
the young stranger's face, and the fierce Baron threatened to hang him
from an iron hook on the castle walls. Whereupon Claus sighed and went
back to the poorer dwellings where he was welcome.
After a time the winter drew near.
The flowers lived out their lives and faded and disappeared; the beetles
burrowed far into the warm earth; the butterflies deserted the meadows;
and the voice of the brook grew hoarse, as if it had taken cold.
One day snowflakes filled all the air in the Laughing Valley, dancing
boisterously toward the earth and clothing in pure white raiment the
roof of Claus's dwelling.
At night Jack Frost rapped at the door.
"Come in!" cried Claus.
"Come out!" answered Jack, "for you have a fire
inside."
So Claus came out. He had known Jack Frost in the Forest, and liked the
jolly rogue, even while he mistrusted him.
"There will be rare sport for me to-night, Claus!" shouted the
sprite. "Isn't this glorious weather? I shall nip scores of noses
and ears and toes before daybreak."
"If you love me, Jack, spare the children," begged Claus.
"And why?" asked the other, in surprise.
"They are tender and helpless," answered Claus.
"But I love to nip the tender ones!" declared Jack. "The
older ones are tough, and tire my fingers."
"The young ones are weak, and can not fight you," said
Claus.
"True," agreed Jack, thoughtfully. "Well, I will not
pinch a child this night--if I can resist the temptation," he
promised. "Good night, Claus!"
"Good night."
The young man went in and closed the door, and Jack Frost ran on to the
nearest village.
Claus threw a log on the fire, which burned up brightly. Beside the
hearth sat Blinkie, a big cat give him by Peter the Knook. Her fur was
soft and glossy, and she purred never-ending songs of contentment.
"I shall not see the children again soon," said Claus to the
cat, who kindly paused in her song to listen. "The winter is upon
us, the snow will be deep for many days, and I shall be unable to play
with my little friends."
The cat raised a paw and stroked her nose thoughtfully, but made no
reply. So long as the fire burned and Claus sat in his easy chair by the
hearth she did not mind the weather.
So passed many days and many long evenings. The cupboard was always
full, but Claus became weary with having nothing to do more than to feed
the fire from the big wood-pile the Knooks had brought him.
One evening he picked up a stick of wood and began to cut it with his
sharp knife. He had no thought, at first, except to occupy his time, and
he whistled and sang to the cat as he carved away portions of the stick.
Puss sat up on her haunches and watched him, listening at the same time
to her master's merry whistle, which she loved to hear even more than
her own purring songs.
Claus glanced at puss and then at the stick he was whittling, until
presently the wood began to have a shape, and the shape was like the
head of a cat, with two ears sticking upward.
Claus stopped whistling to laugh, and then both he and the cat looked at
the wooden image in some surprise. Then he carved out the eyes and the
nose, and rounded the lower part of the head so that it rested upon a
neck.
Puss hardly knew what to make of it now, and sat up stiffly, as if
watching with some suspicion what would come next.
Claus knew. The head gave him an idea. He plied his knife carefully and
with skill, forming slowly the body of the cat, which he made to sit
upon its haunches as the real cat did, with her tail wound around her
two front legs.
The work cost him much time, but the evening was long and he had nothing
better to do. Finally he gave a loud and delighted laugh at the result
of his labors and placed the wooden cat, now completed, upon the hearth
opposite the real one.
Puss thereupon glared at her image, raised her hair in anger, and
uttered a defiant mew. The wooden cat paid no attention, and Claus, much
amused, laughed again.
Then Blinkie advanced toward the wooden image to eye it closely and
smell of it intelligently: Eyes and nose told her the creature was wood,
in spite of its natural appearance; so puss resumed her seat and her
purring, but as she neatly washed her face with her padded paw she cast
more than one admiring glance at her clever master. Perhaps she felt the
same satisfaction we feel when we look upon good photographs of
ourselves.
The cat's master was himself pleased with his handiwork, without knowing
exactly why. Indeed, he had great cause to congratulate himself that
night, and all the children throughout the world should have joined him
rejoicing. For Claus had made his first toy.
