Xmas, Inc.

In Chicago, one "Herman," short, slender, redhaired, obsequious, shrewdest of elevator operators, reported for work one morning last week bearing a large brown-paper bundle. All that day, going up and down, he kept the bundle beside him. Whenever a prosperous and goodnatured face appeared in the car, a face which Herman had seen often before and so might judge belonged to an office-renter in that huge office building, he modestly fished into the bundle, drew out a smaller bundle wrapped in reddest tissue paper and...

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