ive presents in furrin'
countries ez it is here, and I allowed to the old lady that whatever
she orders in that way she is to do in Californy style--no
dollar-jewelry and galvanized-watches business. If she wants to make a
present to any of them nobles ez has been purlite to her, it's got to
be something that Rough-and-Ready ain't ashamed of. I showed you that
pin Mamie bought me in Paris, didn't I? It's just come for my
Christmas present. No! I reckon I put it in the safe, for them kind
o' things don't suit my style: but s'pose I orter sport it to-morrow.
It was mighty thoughtful in Mamie, and it must cost a lump; it's got no
slouch of a pearl in it. I wonder what Mamie gave for it?"

"You can easily tell; the bill is here. You paid it yesterday," said
Slinn. There was no satire in the man's voice, nor was there the least
perception of irony in Mulrady's manner, as he returned quietly,--

"That's so; it was suthin' like a thousand francs; but French money,
when you pan it out as dollars and cents, don't make so much, after
all." There was a few moments' silence, when he continued, in the same
tone of voice, "Talkin' o' them things, Slinn, I've got suthin' for
you." He stopped suddenly. Ever watchful of any undue excitement in
the invalid, he had noticed a slight flush of disturbance pass over his
face, and continued carelessly, "But we'll talk it over to-morrow; a
day or two don't make much difference to you and me in such things, you
know. P'raps I'll drop in and see you. We'll be shut up here."

"Then you're going out somewhere?" asked Slinn, mechanically.

"No," said Mulrady, hesitatingly. It had suddenly occurred to him that
he had nowhere to go if he wanted to, and he continued, half in
explanation, "I ain't reckoned much on Christmas, myself. Abner's at
the Springs; it wouldn't pay him to come here for a day--even if there
was anybody here he cared to see. I reckon I'll hang round the shanty,
and look after things generally. I haven't been over the house
upstairs to put things to rights since the folks left. But YOU needn't
come here, you know."

He helped the old man to rise, assisted him in putting on his overcoat,
and than handed him the cane which had lately replaced his crutches.

"Good-by, old man! You musn't trouble yourself to say 'Merry
Christmas' now, but wait until you see me again. Take care of
yourself."

He slapped him lightly on the shoulder, and went back into his private