The last of this very gallant day came in the home of Barfleur himself. As we neared the house we decided to hurry forward and to say that Gerard had remained at the Churchill’s for dinner, while he made a wide detour, ending up, I think, in some chamber in the coach house. I did not see him again until much later in the evening, but meantime the children, the relatives, the friends and the family servants were all gathered in the nursery on the second floor. There was much palaver and badinage concerning the fact that Santa Claus had really had such bad reports that he had found it much against his will to come here, early at least. There were some rather encouraging things that had been reported to him later, however, and he had, so some one had heard, changed his mind. Whether there would be little or much for such a collection of ne’er-do-wells was open to question. However if we were all very quiet for a while we should see. I can see Barfleur now in his gala attire, stalking nobly about, and the four little Barfleurs surveying rather incredulously but expectantly the maid, the nurse, the governess, and their father. I wondered what had become of my small mementos and whether my special cigarettes for Barfleur were in safety in Santa Claus’s pack. It was small stock, I fear me much, that these well-behaved little English children took in this make-believe, but presently there was a loud hammering at the nursery door, and without a “By your leave,” the same was opened and a vigorous, woolly-headed Santa Claus put his rosy face into the chamber.
“Is there any one living here by the name of Percy Franklin Barfleur, or Berenice Barfleur, or James Herbert Barfleur?” I shall not repeat all the names he called in a high falsetto voice, “I’ve been a long way to-day and I’ve had a great deal to do, and I haven’t had the least assistance from anybody. They’re so busy having a good time themselves.”
I never saw a redder nose, or more shaggy eye-browed eyes, or a gayer twinkle in them. And the pack that he carried was simply enormous. It could barely be squeezed through the door. As he made his way to the center of the room he looked quizzically about, groaning and squeaking in his funny voice, and wanting to know if the man in the monocle were really Barfleur, and whether the fat lady in the corner were really a nurse, or merely an interloper, and if the four children that had been reported to him as present were surely there. Having satisfied himself on various counts, and evoked a great deal of innocent laughter, to say nothing of awe as to his next probable comment, he finally untied the enormous bag and began to consult the labels.