Asher opened the long pasteboard box. “Land o’ Goshen!” said he, “I never see sech a doll. Looks like an angel gone to sleep.”
“That’s for Dolly; won’t she squeal!” said John James. “Billy skates, doesn’t he? These will fit him, I hope—and here’s a pair for Maidie. This—what’s this? It’s labeled ‘for the girl.’” He tore a hole in the paper. “Oh, a dress. That’s for Maidie, too.”
“Here’s a white knitted shawl for—whom? You know best about the women-folks. I had to just guess at it. Here’s some fancy embroidered collars, and stuff of that sort.”
“Mary would like the shawl, and Sarah the collars,” said Asher, slowly.
“All right, put ’em there. Ah ha, now, this is the thing! Try on these rubber boots, Asher!”
“Hold on, John,” said Asher, resolutely; “you jest go slow! Be you made of gold, or what? These things must ’a’ cost a mint o’ money!”
John James sat back on his heels and thought a moment. “I can afford it easily; I have been greatly prospered,” said he.
“Wal, you’re lucky—and this is a reg’lar windfall,” said Asher, getting into the boots. John James laughed, slapping him on the back.
“Perfect fit. They’re yours, Asher. Now lend a hand. A man’s long dressing-gown—that’s for father!”
“He won’t know how to act,” said Asher.