He had set his heart upon buying some Christmas gifts. At first he thought he would break the fifty dollars; but it was so near the end of the month that he borrowed a little from Dr. Meade instead. He came home laden with budgets; but both Kit and Charlie were out, fortunately.
"Now, Granny, you will keep the secret," he implored. "Don't breathe a hint of it."
Very hard work Granny found it. She chuckled over her dish-washing; and, when Dot asked what was the matter, subsided into an awful solemnity. But Wednesday morning soon came.
They all rushed down to their stockings, which Kit and Charlie had insisted upon hanging up after the olden fashion. Stockings were empty however, as Santy Claus' gifts were rather unwieldy for so small a receptacle.
Kit started back in amazement. A mysterious black case with a brass handle on the top.
"O Hal! you are the dearest old chap in the world; a perfect darling, isn't he Granny? and I never, never can thank you. I've been thinking about it all the time, and wondering—oh, you dear, precious fiddle!"
Kit hugged it; and I am not sure but he kissed it, and capered around the room as if he had lost his senses.
Charlie's gift was a drawing-book, a set of colored pencils, and a new dress; Granny's a new dress; and Dot's a muff and tippet, a very pretty imitation of ermine. How delighted they all were! Kit could hardly eat a mouthful of breakfast.
Granny gave them a royal dinner. Altogether it was almost as good as the Christmas with "The old woman who lived in a shoe."