The warning was just in time, for, as Marianne's head disappeared, a
handful of cement fell rattling into the fireplace, just escaping her
bare feet as she jumped on to the hearthrug.
"The knife does beautifully," cried the voice of the Chintz Imp. "I
think when I've loosened this paint box, he'll fall down immediately."
"Oh, do be careful!" said Marianne. "A paint box is what I've been
longing for! Don't chip it if you can possibly help it!"
"Of course I shan't," replied the Chintz Imp. "If he wouldn't kick so
much, I should get him out in half the time."
"I'm not kicking," cried Santa Klaus's voice indignantly. "I've been
as still as a rock, even with that horrid penknife close to my ear the
whole time."
"Have a little patience," said the Chintz Imp soothingly. "I promise
not to hurt you."
Marianne began to feel very cold. The excitement, so far, had buoyed
her up; but now the monotonous _chip, chipping_ of the Chintz Imp
continued so long that she jumped into her chintz-curtained bed,
determined to stay there until something new and interesting called
her up again.
"I can't do any good, so I may as well be comfortable," she thought,
and pulled the eider-down quilt up to her chin luxuriously.
"I _hope_ he'll get out! It _would_ be a disappointment to have that
paint-box taken away again. Perhaps it would be given to someone who
wouldn't care for it. I wonder if it's tin, with moist colours? I must
ask Uncle Max to have that chimney made wider----" At this point
Marianne's eyes closed and she fell asleep.
