t's your
idea, sis--it's a capital one, too," answered Dick. "I confess I'm
getting quite interested in the contents myself, and two or three times
I've come near asking about the progress of the pie, before mother,
forgetting that she's to share in the great surprise."

"O, Dick, _do_ be careful, for we have arranged it all so nicely, and in
another week we'll be making up that pie, so don't spoil our plans now,
for how much more father will enjoy it if his dear little 'wifey' shares
the pleasure also. And, by the way, Dick, that reminds me of something
that must go in for mother. A few days ago, when I was sitting with
father, he directed me to get a trifling gift for mother, but with his
old-time humor he said, 'I believe the most acceptable gift that I could
make Wifey would be all the receipts of the bills that have come in, for
the little woman has worried considerably over the number and amounts. I
got in a pretty good check several days ago, but I'll not give any gifts
this year--the money must go to pay these extra expenses that have been
inevitable. I wish you'd see to it that Wifey has as big a bunch as
possible of receipted bills. It's the best I can do this year, and you
all understand.'"

"Wasn't it dear of him, Dick, and who but father would have thought of
making a joke of something, which might seem to some, only a trying
duty?"

"It just shows us again the sort of manly man father has always been;
but Alice, I had an idea that it would be a nice thing to take that
little poem father wrote to mother last Christmas--the one he presented
with his gift--and have an illuminated copy made of it for mother's gift
this Christmas. It pleased her so much at the time, and, in this form,
it could be framed prettily and hung over her bed. You remember the
lines--I have them in my pocket now."

He unfolded the sheet of paper, and handed it to Alice, who read aloud:

MY BEST CHRISTMAS GIFT.

Some two score years, and more ago,
A father gave his child away:
It was a Christmas gift, you know,
Because 'twas done on Christmas Day.

That little maid was given to me;
I took her then for weal or woe.
The years have passed so happily
It does not seem so long ago.

No other gift in any year
Has e'er excelled, or equaled this;
The others evanescent were
While this has shed perennial bliss.

For it has multiplied with time
And added blessings, year by year;
She came