Life — December 28, 1905 — page 8: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

*LIFE- The Superfluous Baby. HE workshop of Santa Claus is popularly supposed to be wii Zs , a rather untidy place, lit- YS pbbtdee tered with shavings, and A [Ye ss betraying an air of un- HA NS seemly bustle, as if the orders were always behind- hand. } On the contrary, however, itisa trim affair. Aside from the whir of the factory wheels, regular and monotonous in their insistence, it is extremely quiet and orderly. As you enter, Santa Claus is just on the left. A large mahogany desk is in front of him, its edge having been rounded in to admit the curve of hisdelightful stomach. Just at his right there sits a sten- ographer. At his elbow isa telephone, which connects him instantly with all parts of his extensive plant, and in front of him is an elabo- rate system of indexes, which enable him to keep in touch with all of his numerous friends, scattered over the world, It was just before ‘the Christmas rush, as Santa Claus sat with his pipe in his mouth dictating some correspondence, that his old friend, the Stork, came in. The Stork and Santa Claus worked to- gether a great deal. They played, as it were, into each other's hands, The Stork looked tired. He had rings under his eyes. He had been up late the night before. “This gay life,” he remarked, as he threw himself down into chair, ‘is killing me. I've been up every night this week.” “You surprise me id Santa Claus. “I understand that the birth rate has never been so light. “That may be so, but somehow the orders all seem to come in a bunch. Sometimes I lie around for days with nothing to do, and then it's flap, flap night and day. My dear boy, I can tell you seriously that the life of a stork is no cinch,” ta Claus leaned back and puffed strenuously. He looked seriously at his companion. “My friend,” he said, **do you know, I am often greatly disappointed at the way you do your work. You sce I go over the ground pretty thoroughly. I know. “How do you mean?” “I mean that you don’t always distribute your product By Tom Masson. where it will do the most good. Why, sir, I'm simply dumbfounded when I see the number of people who ought to have babies, and don’t." “But,” replied the Stork, ‘I’m practically only an agent. I have to follow instructions.” onsense. So do I—in a way—but I’m constantly making exceptions. Why don't you have some feeling about you? Now, for example, the other day, as I was going on my preliminary rounds, I noticed a delightful old couple that you have shamefully neglected. Sir, they would make ideal parents. They are chock full of senti- ment, they are wise in years and experience, and are indeed everything that parents ought to be. And yet you pass them by and favor some innocent and inexperienced young things who don’t know the first principles of baby culture. It’s all wrong.” “Who is this couple you speak of ?"" asked the Stork, +I assure you, my dear boy, that any little trade courtesy I can extend to you I will do most gladly.”” He took the card that Santa Claus handed him, and looked it over keenly. “I suppose," he said, ‘‘that I might stretch a point in their favor. Of course, you understand that this is not regular. That is to say, I shall have to procure an extra baby, out of the ordinary course of business, and in case these friends of yours should—should—well, not take to him—"" “ Not take to him ! Why, my dear friend, they’re crying for him. The old gentleman goes around all the time with a longing in his heart for the patter of baby footsteps. ‘The old lady is crazy on the subject. Why, she'll go a hundred miles y time to fondle one. It’s all right! They deserve the best one you can furnish—'twill be none too good for them." “Very well—just as you say. usual, you will deliver him?" “Certainly. I usually drop in there for a few moments on Christmas eve to help them trim their tree, and this time I'll just hang him on one of the lower branches.” On the day before Christmas the baby was delivered. The package was marked ‘Ar, in good ord As Santa Claus opened it, he whistled with joy. “Splendid !"’ he exclaimed. ‘*I know a baby when I see one, and this is certainly as fine a specimen as ever came under my observation. How pleased they will be. ‘Think I'll have to drop in there again Christmas morning, just to see their delight.” The baby was delivered to the right parties at the appointed time. About a week later, when Santa Claus had rested from his unusual holiday exertions, one morning the door opened and the Stork dropped quietly in. “Well, my friend, you see it was just as I said.” Santa Claus looked up in surprise. ** What is? What do you mean?” “Why, it only goes to show that you can sometimes be mistaken. You see I have to keep track of these things. Of course, this not being comicbooks.com