Hoping for the best, however, Nicholas carefully made a few little toys for Katje and packed them away with his other gifts, and went on thinking and thinking until, just about a week before Christmas, when he was taking a walk around the big boarded-up house, hoping to catch a glimpse of Katje, a wonderful idea struck him. He had been staring up at the forbidding-looking house, all barred and locked, when his attention was caught by the huge stone chimney on the roof. His eyes brightened; he slapped his thigh and chuckled to himself. "I'll try it! I may get stuck, but it's worth the attempt."

Christmas Eve that year was a dark, moonless night. The wind whistled mournfully through the deserted streets, and a cold sleet stung Nicholas' face and covered his sleigh and reindeer with a shining coat of ice.

"Come on now, my good lads," he encouraged his deer. "Trip's almost over; we've only the house on the hill now. It'll probably take me the rest of the night," he muttered to himself, shivering in his red coat and looking like a big snow-man, with the rain and sleet forming icicles on his snowy white beard.

He tied the deer to the front gate and then, taking his sack from the back of the sleigh, climbed from his high seat to the top bar of the fence, and in a moment was down in the yard. He stopped to listen; not a sound could be heard but a few shutters banging in the wind and the sighing of the big pines.

He crept over to the side of the house, where a sort of porch covered one door and made an excellent ladder to the roof. He had a hard time, fat and bulky as he was and encumbered by the sack on his back; but he finally puffed his way up to the top of the porch, and in a few minutes was crouched on the sloping roof of the house.

Now was the dangerous part. The roof was slippery with the sleet and rain that had fallen; he had to take out his little knife and hack away the ice, to form wedges where he could get a foothold. Once he paused breathless, when he thought he heard footsteps in the darkness below. He listened intently, but discovered it was only the impatient stamping of one of his reindeer.

Finally a big shape loomed up above him—it was the chimney. Nicholas stopped to rest a moment, then leaned over the wide edge and looked down into inky blackness.

"Just as I thought," he murmured in a satisfied tone. "The old miser lets his fire go out nights, even such a bitter cold one as this."

He climbed over the edge and then began his slow, perilous descent, feeling carefully with his feet for jutting bricks, pressing one hand flat on the sides, and bracing his back firmly against the walls, and so slowly made his way through the sooty chimney until he finally felt solid earth beneath his feet.

He stepped out of the fireplace into a room which was only slightly lighter than the black chimney. When his eyes became accustomed to the darkness, he made out the dim outlines of a table and, groping around, found the stub of a candle, which he lit. Then he set to work swiftly. He drew out from his pack a bright blue woolen stocking, which he filled to the brim with little toys and nuts and raisins, for he thought the hungry little girl might like a few sweets. Then he hung the fat stocking right on the fireplace, weighted down with a heavy brass candlestick. He stood back a moment to survey his work and was just leaning over the candle to blow it out and make his difficult way back up the chimney, when he was startled by the sudden opening of a door, and a furious figure dashed into the room.

"Sneaking into my house, eh? After my gold, I suppose! I'll show you how I treat thieves; I'll show you!"

The old man picked up a heavy pair of iron fire-tongs and made a lunge at Nicholas, who rapidly sprang aside, so that the table was between him and the mad old miser.

"Don't be such a fool, man," he said quickly, realizing that the other was in such a rage he was dangerous. "I haven't come here after your gold. Look . . ."

"You haven't, eh? Then what brings you here, if it isn't some thieving purpose? Why do you break into an honest man's house in the dead of night if it isn't for the wealth I'm supposed to have?"

"What brings me here? Look behind you at that stocking there. The other children in the village leave theirs outside their doors, but you have that poor child so frightened she's afraid to ask you for anything. I only wanted to make her feel she was just as good as the others, that she could get gifts the same as they find on Christmas morning."

"Gifts," exclaimed the old man, bewildered, lowering his dangerous-looking weapon. "You give  things away?" He looked at Nicholas as though he were some strange kind of animal.

"Yes," answered Nicholas, relieved to see the fire-tongs out of sight. "I'll even give you a Christmas gift, you foolish old man. Here, if gold's all you care for, here's more—and more—and more, to add to your hoard!"

And he reached into his deep pockets and poured a stream of bright gold on the table under old Carl's astonished eyes.

"There, that's just to show you how unimportant I think money is compared to the love of a little child, which you might have. Did you ever try to make Katje's eyes twinkle at you? No, you only see the bright glitter of this stuff, and so her eyes are sad, pitiful things when you look into them. Did you ever feel her warm little hand tuck itself into yours? No. Your fingers are satisfied with the cold touch of gold. I pity you, old man, but don't you dare touch that stocking or I'll make you sorry for yourself as well. And now," he finished his tirade and brushed some soot from one eye, " now, will you please show me the way to the door. I don't intend to climb up that chimney. I'll never get this suit clean again!"

He marched out of the room, a ridiculous, stout figure, covered with soot from head to toe, and yet somehow a very impressive person to old Carl, who hastened ahead of him and silently let him out into the black, stormy night.

The village buzzed with excitement during the following week. Something had stirred up the old miser on the hill! He had ripped off the boards from his doors and windows; he had bought a new horse and sleigh; he had stocked his larder with huge quantities of food-stuffs. Next, he interviewed the schoolmaster, and within a few days, Katje and her grandfather were seen on the road leading to the school, the little girl's face beaming up at the old man, her feet skipping along to catch up with his long strides and her warm little hand tucked close in his gnarled old fist.

And all because Nicholas had climbed down a chimney to fill a stocking!