DOROTHY GOES SHOPPING
"Dorothy, if you don't keep still, how am I ever going to get your legging on?"
Peggy's protest paralyzed Dorothy's dancing feet for exactly fifteen seconds by the clock. It was an occasion for dancing and handclapping and little gurgles of laughter. Dorothy was going down town to do her Christmas shopping, and the friskiest of Santa Claus' reindeers could not have outdone her in capers.
"I guess I'll buy grandma some 'fumery," she announced, as her youthful aunt, flushed a becoming pink by the violence of her exertions, struggled with the refractory leggings. "And I'll buy grandpa a naughty-mobeel, and Dick a candy cane." There was no purpose of partiality in Dorothy's apportionment of her gifts. She adored her grandparents equally, and really preferred Dick to any other member of the family, since he was the only one of the number who could turn somersaults, an accomplishment Dorothy esteemed above all others. But if an automobile was desirable, so was a candy cane. Dorothy had not reached the point of estimating a gift by its money value.
"Your present is all buyed, Aunt Peggy. Grandma did it, but it's a secret. Want me to tell you?"
"O, no!" Peggy left off buttoning Dorothy's coat, and clapped her hands over her ears. "You mustn't tell secrets," she explained hurriedly. "They're to be kept till Christmas."
"But I don't like secrets to keep," protested Dorothy, unconsciously voicing the sentiments, of some older people. "I like 'em to tell: Aunt Peggy your present's white with pink edges, and--"
The entrance of Mrs. Raymond, with six shining new pennies to add to Dorothy's Christmas funds, diverted her thoughts from the dangerous topic. If each of the glittering coppers had been a gold piece they could not have been received with greater rapture. Dorothy galloped about the room, planning Christmas benefactions with the reckless liberality of a millionaire, and Peggy was so encouraged by this rapid development of generosity as to suggest, "And you're going to buy something for the poor children, aren't you, Dorothy, the children who don't have any Christmas?"
Dorothy reflected. Suddenly her little face blossomed into a pensive sweetness beautiful to see.
"I know, Aunt Peggy," she exclaimed, with the triumph of one who has found a happy solution to a puzzling problem. "I know. The poor children can have the outside of my nuts."