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
wouldn't want him as long as the others.
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