«Of course Santa Claus will come,» said Jimmy Martin confidently. Jimmy was ten, and at ten it is easy to be confident. «Why, he’s got to come because it is Christmas Eve, and he always has come. You know that, twins.»
Yes, the twins knew it and, cheered by Jimmy’s superior wisdom, their doubts passed away. There had been one terrible moment when Theodora had sighed and told them they mustn’t be too much disappointed if Santa Claus did not come this year because the crops had been poor, and he mightn’t have had enough presents to go around.
«That doesn’t make any difference to Santa Claus,» scoffed Jimmy. «You know as well as I do, Theodora Prentice, that Santa Claus is rich whether the crops fail or not. They failed three years ago, before Father died, but Santa Claus came all the same. Prob’bly you don’t remember it, twins, ’cause you were too little, but I do. Of course he’ll come, so don’t you worry a mite. And he’ll bring my skates and your dolls. He knows we’re expecting them, Theodora, ’cause we wrote him a letter last week, and threw it up the chimney. And there’ll be candy and nuts, of course, and Mother’s gone to town to buy a turkey. I tell you we’re going to have a ripping Christmas.»
From the short story «Christmas at Red Butte», in Lucy Maud Montgomery Short Stories, 1909 to 1922, written by L. M. Montgomery.