"What have you for me?" asked Gladys, with only faint interest. She had closets and drawers full of toys and books and games, and she was like a person who has been feasted and feasted, and then is asked to sit down again at a loaded table.
For answer her mother produced from behind a screen a beautiful doll. It was larger and finer than any that Gladys had owned, and its parted, rosy lips showed pearly little teeth within.
Gladys looked at it without moving, but began to smile. Then her mother put her hand about the doll's waist and it suddenly said: "Ma-ma—Pa-pa."
"Oh, if she can talk!" cried Gladys, looking quite radiant for a minute, and running forward she took the doll in her arms.
"Her name is Vera," said the mother, happy at having succeeded in pleasing her child. "Here is something that your grandmother sent you, dear. Isn't it a quaint old thing?" and Gladys's mother showed her a heavy silver bowl with a cover. On the cover was engraved, "It is more blessed to give than to receive."
"I don't know where your grandma found such an odd thing nor why she sent it to a little girl; but she says it will be an heirloom for you."
Gladys looked at the bowl and handled it curiously. The cover fitted so well and the silver was so bright she was rather pleased at having, such a grown-up possession.
"It is evidently valuable," said her mother. "I will have it put with our silver."
"No," returned Gladys, and her manner was the willful one of a spoiled child. "I want it in my room. I like it."