The children were in their beds. Their beds were in the room next
to ours. Mamma and I were in our beds. Mamma wore a kerchief. I
had my cap on. I could hear the children moving. We didn’t move.
We wanted the children to think we were asleep.
“Father,” the children said.
There was no answer. He’s there, all right, they thought.
“Father,” they said, and banged on their beds.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“We have visions of sugarplums,” the children said.