crewed on, held by a ring in a corner, for custard or jelly,
a flask for tea or milk, a beautiful little knife, fork, and spoon
fastened in holders, and a place for a napkin.

Margaret was almost crying over it.

"How I'd love to fill it!" she exclaimed.

"Do it the first time, just to show Kate Comstock what love is!" said
Wesley. "Get up early in the morning and make one of those dresses
to-morrow. Can't you make a plain gingham dress in a day? I'll pick a
chicken, and you fry it and fix a little custard for the cup, and do it
up brown. Go on, Maggie, you do it!"

"I never can," said Margaret. "I am slow as the itch about sewing, and
these are not going to be plain dresses when it comes to making them.
There are going to be edgings of plain green, pink, and brown to the
bias strips, and tucks and pleats around the hips, fancy belts and
collars, and all of it takes time."

"Then Kate Comstock's got to help," said Wesley. "Can the two of you
make one, and get that lunch to-morrow?"

"Easy, but she'll never do it!"

"You see if she doesn't!" said Wesley. "You get up and cut it out, and
soon as Elnora is gone I'll go after Kate myself. She'll take what I'll
say better alone. But she'll come, and she'll help make the dress. These
other things are our Christmas gifts to Elnora. She'll no doubt need
them more now than she will then, and we can give them just as well.
That's yours, and this is mine, or whichever way you choose."

Wesley untied a good brown umbrella and shook out the folds of a long,
brown raincoat. Margaret dropped the hat, arose and took the coat. She
tried it on, felt it, cooed over it and matched it with the umbrella.

"Did it look anything like rain to-night?" she inquired so anxiously
that Wesley laughed.

"And this last bundle?" she said, dropping back in her chair, the coat
still over her shoulders.

"I couldn't buy this much stuff for any other woman and nothing for my
own," said Wesley. "It's Christmas for you, too, Margaret!" He shook out
fold after fold of soft gray satiny goods that would look lovely against
Margaret's pink cheeks and whitening hair.

"Oh, you old darling!" she exclaimed, and fled sobbing into his arms.

But she soon dried her eyes, raked together the coals in the cooking
stove and boiled one of the dress patterns in salt water for half an
hour. Wesley held the lamp while she hung the goods on the line to dry.
Then she set the irons on the stove so they would be hot