"Why, kitty, let me see. You can make a pretty little work-bag. It will be easy to make and there's a lovely piece of silk in the trunk."
Jack was sitting with folded hands thinking deeply. After a while she drew a long breath of relief. "I'm going to give her my locket and chain," she announced.
"Why, ducky dear," said Nan. "She couldn't wear it for it would be too small for her, and, besides, one shouldn't give away a particular present like that."
"But it's the prettiest thing I've got," persisted Jack, "and she can look at it, anyhow."
"But mother wouldn't want you to give it to her," Nan went on. "She'd much rather you'd make something for her. Let me see—suppose you make a——"
"I don't think I'll make anything," interrupted Jack. "If I can't send her the chain I'll send her my silk stockings."
"You ridiculous child! What on earth could mother do with them?"
"She could look at them."
"You're a goosey goose," said Nan, affectionately, drawing Jack to her. "You must give her something appropriate, not anything like that. Oh, I know what you can do. It will be fine. I almost wish I had thought of it for myself. You can give her one of those calendars like Aunt Helen has. It will be just the thing. All you have to do is to get three hundred and sixty-five sheets of paper and take a certain number to each person whom you select; then the person writes a verse, or a selection or a—a—thought and signs her name. You tie them all together and put a cover on and it makes the nicest thing in the world for any one away from her friends."
"Where shall I get the paper?" said Jack.