The Detroit Times

WHEN HELEN MAY WAS SANTA CLAUS
Being a Christmas Story Which Proves That Even a Little Child Thinks it is Better to Give Than to Receive.

Editor's Note-This is a true story of a little Detroit girl who will surely have a merry Christmas. Since the events herein told, Helen May's papa is very proud of her, but he says if her real name were known the praises that would be showered on her might turn her head, and that would spoil it all. So we must call her Helen May.-Editor.

CHAPTER I
"Oh, I know who Santa Claus is," knowingly replied Helen May when Mrs. Duggan seasonably brought the conversation around to the Christmas festivities. Mrs. Duggan, it may as well be defined in Helen May's words, "is that awfully thin lady who comes for the washing every Monday morning."
Helen May also knew all about Mrs. Duggan's children. She knew that Katie Duggan had to stay at home to "mind her baby brother" when the head and mother of the house--both being synonymous in the Duggan home--ventured forth for the soiled linen of wealthier and healthier neighbors.
"I guess Katie knows, too?" inquiringly suggested Helen May. "Why, I have known all about who Santa Claus is ever so long. I found out the next day after last Christmas when I found a Santa Claus face in that trunk in mamma's sewing room."
"Well, for all they'll get this Christmas, Katie, and Johnnie too, might as well know," replied Mrs. Duggan. "They breaks me heart with their carryin's on about dolls and dishes and all them things what's only f'r sich as you, what has a father making more money than he can count."
"Why, Mrs. Duggan, doesn't everybody get dolls and dishes and toys and candies and lots of other things for Christmas, when they are little like Katie and me?"
As Mrs. Duggan lifted the heavy basket of clothes she hid a tear-filled eye and wearily said: "Them as don't have any fathers living any more don't have them kind of Christmases; they are well off if there's enough to eat in the house."

CHAPTER II.
Helen May was not herself the rest of that day, nor the next, nor even the following several days.
"I am just a-thinking, mamma," she said when discovered buried deeply in thought.
Usually Helen May didn't waste much of the time which rightly belonged to her carefully selected though numerous family of dolls upon any elaborate thinking program. Helen May's papa had said--not only once, either--that Helen May was going to grow up to be like a certain frivolous girl he used to know. But after that he always had to square himself with "the frivolous girl he used to know" with sundry and many kisses.
Helen May finally unfolded her troubles to her mother.
"We'll take some of your old toys to Katie and Johnnie Christmas morn," was the way Helen May's mamma solved the perplexing problem.
And all would have moved along according to mamma's schedule if Helen May hadn't found herself wandering aimlessly around in the room which had been left unlocked for the first time in a long time. Helen May's mamma was not at home, else this story would end right here.
Now if you had asked Helen May what she was doing she would have told you "I'm just a-looking 'round."
It was not until Helen May had discovered some boxes that she really became interested. "I wonder what these could be? Oh! Isn't this dolly just too cute for anything?" she inquired of no one in particular when a big, curly haired doll came into view.
"I just know mamma and papa are going to give all these pretty presents to me--I just know they are," added the wise little discoverer. "And this Santa Claus face and these fur clothes papa will wear when he gives the presents to mamma and me and auntie and all the rest of us."
But in the tiniest twinkling of an eye Helen May began a-thinking again.
"Now I know what I'll do. I'll bring up my old toys and Arabelle--she's better'n this big dolly, anyway--and I'll give these new presents to Katie and Johnnie."
With Helen May to think was to decide, and to decide was to act. Arabelle and the old toys changed places with the new presents which her mamma had stored away for Christmas.
Just the least bit of persuasion and the winning smile which always ensnared James, the chauffeur, brought the big automobile to the front door.

This Is The Day We Have
Royalty At Our Own
Hous
Her royal highness, the queen, takes Princess Dolly for an airing in the dining room, while his majesty, the king, prepares to mount his gallant charger in the parlor. God save the queen! Long live the king!

"It will be lots of fun being Santa Claus all by myself," observed Helen May, carefully gathering her presents and the Santa Claus mask into her chubby little arms, as they sped off the aristocratic boulevard.

CHAPTER III.
"Oh I haven't any candy, and all Santa Clauses have candy, I am very sure," exclaimed Helen May. "But I say, I have a quarter at home which Auntie gave me yesterday for learning that verse, you know, and--and would you just as soon loan me one of your quarters until we get home?"
This financial deal having been carried into execution, Helen May insisted upon breaking the speed limit back to a candy store.
"There, right over on that corner is Mrs. Duggan's house I know because mamma and I brought some things over for Mrs. Duggan when she was sick. And, say, would you stop right here so's they'll think I came in a sleigh drawn by regular reindeer?"
Carefully adjusting the Santa Claus mask to her brightly glowing face Helen trudged down to the Duggans home.

CHAPTER IV.
Helen May didn't allow any grass to grow under her feet while playing the role of Santa Claus to the youthful Duggans. "I couldn't stay long, because if I had talked any, Katie would have known that I wasn't a real Santa Claus, and that would have spoiled it all, don't you think so?" she asked James, as he lifted her into the car.
Katie laughed so much I rather reckon she knew I was only a make believe Santa Claus, but little Johnnie thought I was a real live Santa, sure enough. I just know he did, and I gave him all the candy, because a boy wouldn't know how to take care of a doll and a set of dishes, would he?
Soon after Helen May's tired eyes had closed to the world that evening her papa hurriedly dashed down the stairs from the room that had been guarded so closely and held an excited consultation with mamma.
"Well, there is nothing else to do but you must go right downtown and duplicate every last one of them," Helen May's mamma decided with an emphasis which didn't at all resemble "the frivolous girl" Helen May's papa used to know.