“—unless,” La Pava laughed back through the darkness, “unless, señor, she loves you.”
MOTHER’S BIRTHDAY PRESENT
By Carrie Seever
Lizzie was sitting in a corner counting her money. “Thirty-five, Kitty, thirty-five cents.” When Lizzie’s mother was away, washing, she made her kitten her confidant. “Talk about mamma’ll be s’prised when she gits this birthday present, My-i! Third one I’m givin’ her—when I was five I gave her peanut candy; only she didn’t come home till the peanuts were picked out. Second time I gave her a blue hair ribbon; blue looks nice on my red hair. Now I’m seven—twice seven an’ I won’t have these freckles an’ long skirt’ll cover my skinny legs, an’,” she continued, getting up and trying to stand dignifiedly, “my name’ll be Elizabeth. Then I’ll give mamma a’ album! S’long, Kitty.”
Out of the door she skipped, and down the alley toward the market. She forgot about the market when she reached the corner of the alley, for there stood a cart loaded with clocks, vases, jewellery, everything to satisfy one’s birthday wish—even an album.
Lizzie joined the crowd that had gathered to hear what the owner of these articles had to say. She listened a moment and then danced for joy—the man, who seemed to be all stomach and voice, was actually inviting them to take a twenty-five dollar watch for five cents.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen,” said the stomach and voice, “any article on this counter for five cents—every piece o’ chewing gum wins something. You want to try, mister? Now, folks, watch him read the name o’ one o’ these handsome presents from the slip o’ paper ’round that gum. Gold-handled umbreller? Here you are. Who’s goner win the other one? Nothin’ faky. That’s right, try your luck”—to a man who was edging to the front. “Diamond stud? You’re lucky—only a few more diamond studs left. Next! Any one else? Don’t stop ’cause you won a’ umbreller. That’s it. Watcher got now? Gold bracelet? Five rubies and four emeralds in it, ladies and gents.”
Lizzie began to realize that she wasn’t dreaming—three prizes gone already!
“Lady, don’t you want this linen tablecloth? Fifteen dollars retail. Or this album that plays music when you’re lookin’ at your loved ones?”
Lizzie gasped—there was only one album. “I want to win the album,” she shouted.