"Very well, we will call them magnificent, then," he conceded. "But even in that case, surely the countless stores full of beautiful and useful articles, and with a list properly tabulated, and a sufficiency of money—" An expressive gesture finished his sentence.
The woman shook her head.
"I know; it sounds easy," she sighed, "but it is n't. It's so hard to think up what to give, and after I 've thought it up and bought it, I 'm just sure I ought to have got the other thing."
"But you should have some system about it."
"Oh, I had—a list," she replied dispiritedly. "But I'm so—tired."
Jasper Hawkins suddenly squared his shoulders.
"How many names have you left now to buy presents for?" he demanded briskly.
"Three—Aunt Harriet, and Jimmy, and Uncle Harold. They always get left till the last. They're so—impossible."
"Impossible? Nonsense!—and I'll prove it to you, too. Give yourself no further concern, Edith, about Christmas, if that is all there is left to do—just consider it done."
"Do you mean—you'll get the presents for them?"