Santa Claus is Born

The year that followed Nicholas' death on that Christmas morning was a very sad one for all the villagers They had tenderly put Nicholas to rest in the pine grove near the spot where the children had played with him in the past. The eight reindeer were no longer in the stall behind the empty cottage, but had been taken by Kathy to the stables at the big house up on the hill. In the months that passed, many a mother would pick up a little doll from the floor and gently wipe the dust from its face with a suddenly tear dimmed eye for the generous heart who had made the little toy with so much love. It gradually entered even the youngest mind that Nicholas was dead and would no longer fill their stockings at Christmas. They cried a little, but gradually the image of the fat, cheerful old man faded from their memories and so the year passed until it was again Christmas eve.

"Mother, are we going to hang up our stockings?"

"No child. Have you forgotten that Nicholas is no longer here and can't come to fill your stockings?"

This question was asked and similarly answered in almost every house in the village on that Christmas eve.

All over the village, children went sadly to bed without hanging up their stockings, except for one little boy, Stephen, who refused to believe that Nicholas wouldn't come. He astonished his parents when he calmly went about hanging up his stocking just the way he had done every Christmas eve since he could remember.

"But Stephen, he's dead," said his mother. "He can't come"

"Of course he'll come" said a determined Stephen, "we must keep the fire burning for him."

So that night, all the doors were shut and the fires put out, apart from Stephen's house, where a lonely stocking hung beside a cheerful blaze.

Just after midnight, Holly woke up. "I thought I heard sleigh bells and reindeer hooves," she said sleepily. "It must have been a dream" and she turned over and drifted back to sleep.

Christmas morning dawned bright and clear, the village silent under a blanket of snow.

Suddenly the tranquillity was shattered by a wild shout as the door of one cottage burst open. "He's been!" shrieked Stephen.

"He's been. Look at my stocking! It's filled just the same as last Christmas and there's a big new sled by our fireplace. I knew it. Look everybody, Wake up, wake up! Nicholas has been."

Men, women, and children jumped from their beds to see what all the noise was about, and the children leaped right into the largest piles of toys they had ever seen. They were all around the fireplaces, on the tables and chairs, and even beside their beds. The entire village opened its doors and poured out into the streets, the children dragging handsome new sleds laden with the most beautiful toys the village had ever seen.

"Did you see this? Look at my boat."

"He must have come down the chimney when he found the door locked. There was some soot on the floor."

"Isn't it wonderful? It's the happiest Christmas we've ever had!"

"Little Stephen found a fir tree in a tub, decorated with more gifts, fruit and candles, the same way the gypsy children found their gifts many years ago."

"Yes, and Stephen says there's a big, shiny star at the very the top."

"That's because Stephen believes in him," they said ashamed of themselves, "But now we believe too."

An old woman watching all the happy faces, said in her cracked voice, "He's a saint, that's what he is!"

"Yes he's Saint Nicholas now!" They all took up the cry and the whole village joined in shouting, "Saint Nicholas! Saint Nicholas!"

A little boy's voice tried to add his stumbling speech to the general shouting. "Sant Clos! Sant Clos!" he lisped.

"We believe now," the children and their parents all said to each other.

"How could Saint Nicholas be forgotten by us. We believe he will always visit us on Christmas eve as long as there is one child left in the village"

"In the village," echoed little Stephen, "You mean in the whole wide world," he shouted triumphantly.

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