The shopkeeper was evidently considering.
Livingstone was half angry and half embarrassed. He felt as he had not done in twenty years. The shopkeeper was weighing him in his scales as he might have done a pound of merchandise, and Livingstone could not tell what he would decide. There was Kitty, however, her eyes still filled with light. He could not disappoint her. She, too, felt that he was being weighed and suddenly came to his rescue.
"He's an awful kind man," she said earnestly. "He hasn't got any little children of his own, and he's going to give things to little poor children. He always does that, I guess," she added.
"Well, no, I don't," said Livingstone, looking at the shopkeeper frankly; "but I wish I had, and I'll pay you."
"All right. She knows you and that will do," said Mr. Brown.
Kitty, with the light of an explorer in her eyes, was making new discoveries on the shelves, and the two men walked to the back of the shop where the shopkeeper wrote a list of names. Then Livingstone and Kitty got into the sleigh and drove for a half-hour or so.
On their return Mr. Brown was ready.
His shop looked as though it had been struck by a whirlwind. The floor and counters were covered with boxes and bundles, and he and Livingstone packed the big sleigh as full as it would hold, leaving only one seat deep in the furs amid the heaped up parcels. Then suddenly from somewhere Mr. Brown produced a great, shaggy cape with a hood, and Livingstone threw it around Kitty and getting in lifted her into the little nest between the furs.
Kitty's eyes were dancing and her breath was coming quickly with excitement.
It was a supreme moment.