Arthur Christmas Read Online Free PDF Page B

concerned elf shouted after him, “You’re compromising the wrapping!”
    RIP! Bryony cringed as the paper snagged on a door, but Arthur was gone. He had to know the identity of 47785BXK.
    Finally, he found the letter and postcard stamped with that unlucky designation. Arthur read the letter and recognized the postcard from Gwen Hines of 23 Mimosa Avenue, Trelew, Cornwall, England. He instantly remembered the little girl whose friend thought Santa’s mission was “impossible,” the good little girl who wanted the “pink Twinkle Bike.”
    Arthur looked at the clock near his shrine to Santa Claus. 5:24 a.m. Could Gwen’s friend be correct? Was delivering her gift really “impossible”? Arthur’s thin shoulders slumped with abject defeat.
    At that moment, Steve stared at a red designer suit neatly trimmed with white. This would have been his Santa suit. But … he hung it back in the closet and switched off his light.
    Meanwhile, Santa hung up his well-worn suit and wondered, “This figurehead thingy … I’m not just a fatty with a suit, am I?”
    â€œOf course not, dear,” Mrs. Claus assured him mechanically. How could she tell her husband that his eyes had lost that special twinkle?
    Santa fretted on, “And retire … what would I do all day?”
    â€œWell, we could spend more time together, maybe take up gardening,” Mrs. Claus suggested. “It’s a little tricky at the North Pole, but there’s a lot you can grow in containers. And there’s Steve … and Arthur …”
    Santa sighed. “Arthur. Oh, dear. What a puzzle.” Would his second son ever be good at anything?
    Santa said, “I’m still very much up for the job, you know.” But his Ho, ho, ho faded out into a huge yawn. “Night, dear,” Santa muttered, just before he became lost in snores.

IN THE DARKNESS, tiny lights flickered in the flashing eyes of Arthur’s reindeer slippers. Too miserable to sleep, Arthur stared at Gwen’s letter by these blinking lights.
    â€œIt can’t be … it just can’t be …” Arthur muttered over and over again, until finally he slammed his head on his desk, dislodging the shelf full of Santa knickknacks.
    â€œWhat’s all this kadoodle, young man?”
    Arthur turned; he was surprised to see Grandsanta and Dasher in the doorway. He waved Gwen’s letter and explained, “It’s this little girl: She’s been missed!”
    Grandsanta exclaimed, “Ha! So much for your brother’s fancy-pants technology!”
    â€œNo, Steve and Dad racked their brains, but it’s impossible!” replied Arthur.
    Grandsanta was skeptical. “Is it now? Missed a child! Dear, oh, dear, sends shivers down me shins.”
    Arthur glanced at the clock again and imagined Gwen. “In two hours she’s going to wake up, tear downstairs, search under the tree, and …” He couldn’t bear it. “But there’s NOTHING THERE! She won’t understand. She’ll think she’s the one kid in the world who Santa doesn’t care about.”
    Grandsanta was only half-listening. His wrinkled face glowed with excitement as his aged brain hatched a plan. “D’you know, Arthur. There is a way!”
    But the young man felt lost in melancholy. “It’s impossible!”
    Grandsanta scoffed. “They used to say it was impossible to teach women to read!” Then he added slyly, “Follow me.”
    The old man led his grandson down a dark hall toward the Abandoned Toy Depot in a dusty, unused section of the vast North Pole complex. Arthur’s slippers blinked, and his flashlight beam cast a lonely cone of light in the blackness. Dasher whined nervously as they walked past rusty shelves under a sign that read Dolls and Toys.
    Grandsanta unlocked a large door that creaked slowly open. Arthur’s flashlight beam discovered a