Bess nodded. "I gave them to him the last time he was at home."
I stared. Bess wasn't the kind of a girl who couldn't keep a thing to herself, or wait for the proper time. "What did you do it for?" I asked.
"Well," said Bess, "I had them finished, and I didn't see any reason for keeping them for a month or so, when he might as well be using them. I don't see the sense in saving up all your kindnesses to do in a bunch, once a year. Why not scatter them along a little?"
"But what'll you do Christmas? He 'I'll expect you to give him something more then."
"No, he won't," said Bess.
"Oh, you told him they were a Christmas present?"
"Indeed I didn't. I told him that I made them for him because I love him, and wanted to do it, and not just so I could give him something at some particular time, only because he'd expect something, and everybody else would be giving things. He saw the point, and said he'd a lot rather have a gift just when the feeling prompted a person—instead of from habit, or from fashion."
