"You expected and received—money?"
"Y-e-e-e-e-es, sir."
"Why?"
Silence.
"Jimsy, I insist upon an explanation."
Jimsy gulped and faced Abner Sawyer, his eyes blazing with heartbroken disappointment through tear-wet lashes.
"Uncle Ab," he choked, "it—it was a Chris'mus s'prise fur you an' Aunt Judith." A great tear rolled slowly down upon the tippet. "I—I seen a book on fancy carpenterin' an' I—I didn't have no money an'—an' a thimble. It ain't silver, but it's 'mos' as good." And then Jimsy lost his moorings with a sob and cried his heart out upon the sleeve of Abner Sawyer. "I—I got the book buttoned under my coat," he blurted after a while, "an', Uncle Ab, I'm awful sorry 'bout the door-bells. All the fellus do it home—"
Abner Sawyer would have been less than human if the boy's tragedy had not touched him.
"Why," he asked huskily, "why did you wish to give me a Christmas present?"