t ask me. Why, it's Nebuchadnezzar. It'd use up the whole
iceberg. Besides, I couldn't never think o' Nebuchadnezzar there an'
not a spear o' grass on the whole lan'scape. You needn't to laugh. I
know it's silly, but I always think o' sech ez that. No, jest write it,
'Ephraim N. Trimble, from his wife, Kitty.' Be sure to put in the
Kitty, so in after years it'll show which wife give it to him. Of
co'se, them thet knew us both would know which one. Mis' Mary Jane
wouldn't never have approved of it in the world. Why, she used to rip
up her old crocheted tidies an' things an' use 'em over in bastin'
thread, so they tell me. She little dremp' who she was a-savin' for,
poor thing. She was buyin' this pitcher then, but she didn't know it.
But I keep a-runnin' on. Go on with the inscription, Mr. Lawson. What
have you got? 'From his wife, Kitty'--what's the matter with
'affectionate wife'? You say affectionate is a purty expensive word?
But 'lovin'' 'll do jest ez well, an' it comes cheaper, you say? An'
plain 'wife' comes cheapest of all? An' I don't know but what it's mo'
suitable, anyhow--at his age. Of co'se, you must put in the date, an'
make the 'Kitty' nice an' fancy, please. Lordy, well, the deed's
done--an' I reckon he'll threaten to divo'ce me when he sees it--till
he reads the inscription. Better put in the 'lovin',' I reckon, an' put
it in capitals--they don't cost no more, do they? Well, goodbye, Mr.
Lawson, I reckon you'll be glad to see me go. I've outstayed every last
one thet was here when I come. Well, good-bye! Have it marked
immediate, please, an' I'll call back in an hour. Good-bye, again!"

Part III

When old man Trimble stood before the fireplace at midnight that night,
stuffing little parcels into the deep, borrowed stocking, he chuckled
noiselessly, and glanced with affection towards the corner of the room
where his young wife lay sleeping. He was a fat old man, and as he stood
with shaking sides in his loose, home-made pajamas, he would have done
credit to a more conscious impersonation of old Santa himself.

His task finally done, he glanced down at a tall bundle that stood on
the floor almost immediately in front of him, moved back with his hands
resting on his hips, and thoughtfully surveyed it.

"Well, ef anybody had 'a' told it on me I never would 'a' believed it,"
he said, under his breath. "The idee o' me, Ephe Trimble, settin' up
sech a thing ez that in his house--at my time o' life." Then