It seemed to Jimsi that the afternoon hours would never pass. She was as restless as a caged lion. She couldn’t work on Christmas-tree decorations—and then she remembered that the tree was to be finished by the time Aunt Phoebe came home. She started feverishly to make more things. She worked very hard. Indeed, she worked so hard that the tree grew to be wonderfully pretty. It needed only candles to make it quite complete. Then Jimsi had an idea. “I’ll tie a crow letter on the tree,” she thought, “and the crow letter shall tell Joyce all about everything. But Aunt Phoebe must write that crow letter herself.”
She decided to try making Christmas cards and blotter-cases. She was engrossed in these when there came a stamping of feet on the doorstep outside and the front door-bell rang. It was Aunt Phoebe all covered with snow and beaming from under a snow-covered hat. Hooray!
Oh, wasn’t it good to have her back, and wasn’t it jolly to be able to find out all about the real fortune that was going to come to the little lame girl!
“It’s too good to be true,” she laughed. “Oh, tell me all about it right away, Aunt Phoebe, please!”
So Aunt Phoebe, as soon as she could fling off her very wet things, sat down by the fire and told Jimsi the whole long story of how she had taken the model and found the toy merchant who published games and toys, and how he had looked it all over and tried it and said it was good—yes, very good, and so good that it did interest him. She told how he had carried the toy away to show to other members of the firm, and how she had had to wait what seemed hours and hours before he came back to say that they thought it an excellent thing and wanted to publish it.
At first, so she said, he had not wanted to pay any advance for it—that meant the hundred dollars, Aunt Phoebe said. But she had insisted, and he had agreed.
There was something Aunt Phoebe called a contract. This was going to be sent and signed by Joyce’s father. It was a written agreement of terms of sale.
“That’s all,” smiled Aunt Phoebe, finishing by giving Jimsi’s hand a hard and happy squeeze. “Now, let’s see the tree crow gave you.”
Jimsi took Aunt Phoebe to The Happy Shop where the little tree stood. Oh, it really did look very, very charming. Aunt Phoebe said so, and the little maid who came to announce dinner said so, and even Jimsi who had done it all herself said so. I think crow would have said so, too, if crow could have talked really and truly.
After dinner, Aunt Phoebe wrote the crow letter that told about the hundred dollars and the contract and all the other things. She wrote it on her typewriter because she wanted it very clear and easy to understand. She told how Jimsi had wanted to have Joyce get well so that she would not be a little lame girl any longer, and she told how she herself had suddenly thought of the value of the original toy made with shadow pictures. She said she had taken it to the city and that everything was all right. It only remained to hurry Joyce right off as fast as she could go. Aunt Phoebe didn’t see why Joyce couldn’t go day after tomorrow. That was the time she and Jimsi were going to the city and they could take Joyce to the hospital in a motor car.