Johnston McCulley

“ Now we are going to have an old-fashioned tree, with strings of pop corn on it, and oranges and candy in stockings made from pink mosquito netting, and all that. And we are going to have a Santa Claus.
“The man I engaged to play Santa Claus hasn't shown up, and I just got a telephone message that he had slipped on a pavement and hurt himself. I need a Santa Claus. It will not take you more than an hour, and I'll pay you well. And—pardon me—you look hungry. You can have all you want to eat.”
Squinty Pete thought it out rapidly. ”

“ I'm the only one who struck out and won a fortune, but the others are comfortable; well off, you might say. There's the Santa Claus suit. Get into it and I'll get you a tray of food.”
He hurried out and closed the door, and Squinty Pete glanced rapidly around the room. Nothing worth stealing here. All rich men were maniacs, Pete told himself. Imagine keeping a room like this in a mansion!
Pete sat down and reached for the Santa Claus suit, but stopped to glance around again. The room brought back his happy boyhood. He got up and began looking at the faded photographs. ”

“ Yet Squinty Pete continued after the car, looking at the license number as he went. But before he came to the middle of the block he knew that the chase was useless. The car darted around the next corner and was gone. Squinty Pete had the package beneath his arm.
He stopped at the curb and grinned. This, at least, was a small measure of luck. If he could not return the package and collect a reward, at least he might sell the contents. He began wondering what was in the parcel. He hoped that it was something he could turn into ready cash. He knew of a “fence” far downtown. ”

“ Pete said.
“Good! You don't know what a relief it is to find a man like this. Just come with me. I've got a Santa Claus suit; everything is ready for you.”
Squinty Pete followed at the other's heels. They passed through a big bronze gate, and Pete noticed that they were going into the house from which the music came. ”

“ Before one of the photographs he gasped, rubbed at his eyes, and looked again. There could be no mistake. There was his father, his mother, his brothers and sisters, himself. Why, he remembered when that photograph had been taken. ”

“ It's a bum Christmas I'm havin'.”
Pete walked on up the street, which was Broadway. He reached Times Square, and for a time he watched a crowd purchasing theater tickets at an agency. Pete supposed that all those people had regular homes, and he began wondering what a regular home would be like. He began wishing that he had a regular home, that he had remained on the farm. A man always had good food there, even if he did have to work hard for it. ”