amount of money for gifts if I had
had it, but I wasn't willing to pay what I had. I got over that,
though, Aunt Emmy. Now I'm going to tell you what I did give.

"First, there was my teacher, Miss Mitchell. I gave her one of
father's books. I have so many of his, you know, so that I wouldn't
miss one; but still it was one I loved very much, and so I felt that
that love made it worth while. That is, I felt that on second thought.
At first, Aunt Emmy, I thought I would be ashamed to offer Miss
Mitchell a shabby old book, worn with much reading and all marked over
with father's notes and pencillings. I was afraid she would think it
queer of me to give her such a present. And yet somehow it seemed to
me that it was better than something brand new and unmellowed--that
old book which father had loved and which I loved. So I gave it to
her, and she understood. I think it pleased her so much, the real
meaning in it. She said it was like being given something out of
another's heart and life.

"Then you know Mrs. Martin ... last year she was Miss Hope, my dear
Sunday School teacher. She married a home missionary, and they are in
a lonely part of the west. Well, I wrote her a letter. Not just an
ordinary letter; dear me, no. I took a whole day to write it, and you
should have seen the postmistress's eyes stick out when I mailed it. I
just told her everything that had happened in Greenvale since she went
away. I made it as newsy and cheerful and loving as I possibly could.
Everything bright and funny I could think of went into it.

"The next was old Aunt Kitty. You know she was my nurse when I was a
baby, and she's very fond of me. But, well, you know, Aunt Emmy, I'm
ashamed to confess it, but really I've never found Aunt Kitty very
entertaining, to put it mildly. She is always glad when I go to see
her, but I've never gone except when I couldn't help it. She is very
deaf, and rather dull and stupid, you know. Well, I gave her a whole
day. I took my knitting yesterday, and sat with her the whole time and
just talked and talked. I told her all the Greenvale news and gossip
and everything else I thought she'd like to hear. She was so pleased
and proud; she told me when I came away that she hadn't had such a
nice time for years.

"Then there was ... Florence. You know, Aunt Emmy, we were always
intimate friends until last year. Then Florence once told Rose Watson
something I had told her in confidence. I found it out and I was s