Santa Claus looked at Dorothy's pink eyelids, and cheeks still stained with tears, and a sudden attractive change came over him. He looked less like a tired, red-faced man, getting through with the drudgery of his day's work, and more like the jolly saint of the chimney and fireplace. A twinkle appeared in his eye.
"I think mesilf 'tis a sinsible change," said Santa Claus, still with a surprising richness of accent. "An' 'twud be no wonder, my little dear, if you got thim both, and a matter o' small trifles beside." And with the gorgeous indefiniteness of this promise sounding in her ears, it was small wonder that Dorothy went away radiant.
Twenty-six cents is easily spent under certain conditions, and then again, its investment is a matter requiring the most profound deliberation, and accompanied by frequent changes of mind. The amount of time and consideration Dorothy found necessary before reaching a conclusion, passed belief. The good-natured Christmas crowd surged about her as she stood immovable before a counter, gazing dreamily on the articles displayed, and responding to Peggy's hints with a reproving "Sh! I'm thinking." But at last her funds were expended, and presents provided for the entire family. As Dorothy would not listen to the suggestion that anything should be sent, both she and Peggy had their arms full of knobby packages anything but small, for the size of a Christmas gift bears little relation to the cost.
Once outside, Peggy drew a breath of relief. "That's over for a year," she congratulated herself. "Dorothy, dear, let's walk down to the next block. I want to get some Christmas seals."
Dorothy who had borne up surprisingly while her own shopping was in progress, now developed symptoms of weariness. "I'm getting awful tired in the legs, Aunt Peggy."
"We'll go home in a very few minutes, Dorothy. Won't grandma be surprised to see all these lovely packages, and won't she wish she knew what was inside?" Thus skilfully did Peggy divert the thoughts of her small companion, till the tired little feet were trotting jubilantly over the pavements, keeping time to joyful thoughts.
Half way down the block a young man stood before a jeweller's window, intent on the display. Something in his attitude struck Peggy as familiar. She looked at him very closely, and then her eyes flew to the sign over the door, King and Kennedy.
Peggy came to an abrupt halt. A sudden anger blazed in her eyes. Righteous indignation made her oblivious to everything but its exciting cause. For the young man by the jeweller's window was Graham Wylie, and Peggy could not doubt that he was racking his brains to decide on a suitable Christmas gift for Maud.
It was not Peggy's habit to evade responsibility by the thought that a thing was none of her business. She pushed her way through the crowd, and stood at Graham's elbow. "Good afternoon."
Graham's start was of course due to a guilty conscience, though the face he turned on Peggy was exasperatingly non-committal and cheerful. "Hello, Peggy. Come over to see the sparklers?"