So Sunbeam opened hers first. It was a coral necklace of pale pink, one of the simplest gifts I had ever seen given to a child. But as soon as she saw it her eyes beamed and the glow of pleasure flushed on her cheeks.
She jumped down and ran across to him, and threw her arms round his neck.
“It’s just like Moonbeam’s. When she sees it she will be as pleased as I. And you really, really brought it from the earth?”
“Really—really. So it’s very precious. I made it myself in spare moments from what material I could get.”
“But how is it you’ve made it just like hers? It is exactly like.”
“Well, I met Moonbeam’s father one day, and he told me he had been making a coral necklace—three plain beads and a rough one—for his little daughter, so I made one for my little daughter too.”
And she kissed him again without any words, but her evident gratitude spoke more than words.
By this I had begun to unfasten my packet. I felt more of an amused pleasure than anything else, as I expected nothing but some trifle, knowing the barren land on which, for the most part, he had worked.
What was my surprise on finding my own ring—the one thing I had prized and lost.
I think amazement must at first have overwhelmed all other feelings, then gratitude, such as I had never felt before.