to," sez she, standin' before me, tears streamin' down her white cheeks, her work-box in one hand, and the oncompleted slipper a-danglin' in the other.
"Well," sez I, "the first thing to do is to put them aside," sez I, motionin' to the slippers, two-thirds of which wuz not done; "and them, too," sez I, p'intin' to the delicate cobweb-work hangin' over the sides of her work-basket.
"Lay them aside!" sez she, in wonderin', horrer-*struck axents; "these Christmas gifts?"
And I leaned back in my chair and looked indifferent, and sez I, "I knew you wouldn't do what I wanted you to."
"Oh, I will, I will!" sez she. "I will do it." And she went to a side table and laid the work-basket on it and throwed a scarf over it. I see she meant bizness, and she come back and sot down on a low stool at my feet and leaned her pretty head against my knee, and I smoothed down the clusterin' curls on her pale forward and went on.
"Now," sez I, "the first thing you do, you go to the book-store and buy a handsome copy of 'Is Marriage a Failure?' for Louis Arnold, and some other nice book or piece of useful silver-ware for his mother. Wrop these oncompleted gifts up in silk paper and put them in the draw; and as you shet that draw up, shet up in it all your cares and anxieties for Christmas; keep in your mind only the beauty and blessedness of the day, and its holy and hallowed meanin'. Keep this cobweb-work you have done for yourself as a motto that means 'I will never do it agin,' and buy of some poor girl that wants the money some of this hem-stitchin' and tattin' and drawn-work you want for your relations, and do
