Quinby’s Backward Delivery — Before the moon had finished polishing the rails, Quinby tucked a jingle bell in his pocket and made himself a challenge: add one extra surprise to every toy car without anyone hearing him. Read the full story →
Before the moon had finished polishing the rails, Quinby tucked a jingle bell in his pocket and made himself a challenge: add one extra surprise to every toy car without anyone hearing him. The North Pole Express puffed cocoa-smelling steam around the pine trees, and he tiptoed from wagon to wagon, sliding striped candy canes beside teddy bears and a tiny drum under a bow. “Quiet as a mitten,” he whispered, while the wheels clicked clack-click over the snowy loop.
At the second North Pole sign, Quinby noticed something odd. Every snowman on the engines had turned its coal smile toward him. Then one winked. The snowmen had been watching all night, not to catch him, but to help: their carrot noses pointed to the homes with empty doorsteps, and their scarf fringes fluttered when he passed the right gift.
By dawn, the last package sat where no one would know who left it, except perhaps the snowmen. Quinby’s bell never jingled, but the rails hummed like a secret thank-you; next time you spot those smiling engines, see if one carrot nose is still pointing around the snowy loop.
