yit!" Wrinkle whispered, as he
slid along, to the bewildered mother. "Don't spile it all."

"Well, let's go back on the porch," Henley said. "I've got some'n to
show you. What you reckon I've got in my bundle? Come take a look." He
led them back into the outer dusk, and descended to the ground for the
parcel, which, after hastily cutting the string, he opened on the steps.
The others stared in astonishment at the pile of toys, little dresses,
flannels, dainty caps of lace, and shoes and stockings.

"What did you go an' buy all them things for?" Wrinkle asked, rendered
serious for the first time by the realization that his jest had at least
cost more than he had intended.

"Because I wanted to, that's what for!" Henley laughed, proudly. "Do you
reckon I was going to come away from Atlanta empty-handed when I was
right where so many things could be had? I showed your letter to Mrs.
Moody, who keeps the house I stopped at, and she took me down-town and
helped select what was best. She said every single article would come in
handy, and she ought to know--she's the mother of nine. Lord, I wish I'd
got here earlier, before his bed-time. I tried to git the driver to
hurry up, but first one thing happened, then another. I want to see what
the little chap 'll do with this rattler; these blamed little bells set
up a jinglin' noise every time the hack struck a snag."

During this monologue the machine-agent was silent, a dark frown of
indecision on his face. As for his wife, she looked as if she had
bartered her child's birthright for something that had disagreed with
her mental digestion. Jason Wrinkle, however, reflections on the cost of
his joke for the moment set aside, seemed to have fallen into his
happiest mood. Unable to disguise his merriment at such close range from
his victim, he had slipped out into the yard, and Allen could see him
writhing in the folds of darkness as he slapped his thighs and raised
his heavy boots in a soundless dance of joy.

"Well, I'll go find Hettie." Henley took up the parcel, and, with it in
his arms, he clattered thunderously through the hallway back to his
wife's room. There was candle-light in the room, and he saw her hastily
turn toward a window as he entered and threw the things on her bed.

"Well, here I am," he announced, the ring of elation still in his voice.
"I don't blame you for hiding from me, Hettie. I've acted like an old
hog, and I've come back to say so."

She turned to