"Of course," said the Chintz Imp. "Do you think I am as old as your
great-aunt, without knowing much more than _you_ do! Bring me the
knife. I'm going to swarm up the chimney and scratch away the mortar.
Leave it entirely to me, and Santa Klaus will be down here in an hour
or two!"
Marianne ran off to her little play box, and returned with the knife.
It was almost as large as the Chintz Imp, but he possessed so much
wiry strength in his thin arms and backbone that he was able to
clamber up the chimney without difficulty.
"Are you all right?" cried Marianne, standing with her bare feet on
the edge of the stone fender, and holding up the night-light as high
as she could without singeing Santa Klaus.
"Getting up," replied the Chintz Imp, "but he's in very tight!"
"Is it his sack that's stuck?" enquired Marianne, anxiously.
"Yes, yes! It's only my sack!" cried the deep voice; "you get that
loose, and I shall drop into the room like a fairy."
Marianne strained her eyes up the chimney, but could see nothing.
"Take care! Here's a lot of plaster falling!"
