“A cold night,” I remarked.
“The fire does nae draw so well,” Sandy replied.
“It’d draw fine if you put some coal on it,” Santa said, his faded blue eyes fixed on some distant recollection. His whiskers were genuine enough, albeit stained and flecked with tobacco. His snub nose and cheeks were rosy with broken veins His head was bare and pink.
“It’s like an igloo in here,” Rudolph said mournfully. It was a proper Nordic mournfulness. What an oddity he was. He emerged from the bottom half of a reindeer suit, the forelegs of which were tied round his waist. Head and antlers dangled down behind. His face was long and rubbery. His bulbous nose glowed as though from years of intemperance. His fat, spiteful lips were pushed out petulantly.
“As a matter of fact igloos are very cosy,” Sandy said.
