“I saw elegant watch chains at one of the stores for fifty cents.  I told the clerk who I wanted them for, and he very kindly interested himself, and showed me some that he called ‘dead bargains.’”

“Go then, by all means, and secure a bargain for the boy.  I will advance the money.”

“Oh, thank you, I prefer making the gift myself.  I want also to get something for Thomas, and I cannot think of anything but a gun or a book.  Do you know if he likes to shoot things?”

“If Thomas developed a taste for fire-arms he might take to shooting promiscuously, and life at Oaklands would no longer be so safe as at present.  I should certainly advise a book.”

“But some of them say he cannot read.”

“It is high time, then, for him to learn.  Thomas is a marvel of thrift, and he won’t be satisfied to have the book bring in no return.  A school book would be a judicious selection.”

“I saw a book down town about horses and their diseases and treatment.  Cook says, ‘Thomas dearly loves to fix up medicines for his horses.’”

“Very well.  Now that matter is settled, have you any further inquiries to make about Christmas presents?”

“Not any more, thank you.”

“Then I will tell you a bit of news.  I expect Mr. Bovyer here this evening.  It is a great favor for him to confer on us at this season—­coming to brighten our Christmas.”

“I fancied we had the prospect of a very joyous Christmas without help from abroad.  To look at the pantry one might imagine we were going to entertain half of Cavendish to-morrow.”

“I noticed a wistful look on your face when you came in that the purchase of a gun and watch could not wholly account for.  Tell me, what is it?”

“Mr. Winthrop, can you really read my thoughts?” I exclaimed, in genuine alarm.

“Suppose I try.  You would like to have a spread for your Mill Road pensioners; possibly at the Blakes or among some of them, and thereby utilize our overplus of provisions.  Have I read aright?” My face flushed hotly, for this certainly had been in my mind for days; but I had not courage to make the request.

“You do not answer my question,” he said, after awhile, seeing me stand silent.

“One cannot be punished for their thoughts, Mr. Winthrop.”

“Then this was your thought?” he questioned.

“Surely you must be angry with me for wishing to do it.  I did not mention it to Mrs. Flaxman, or any one.”

“Why, not, indeed.  If cook is willing to share her good things with the Mill Road people, and Mrs. Flaxman will accompany you to preserve the proprieties, I do not see anything to hinder.  I will provide all the apples and confectionery your hungry crowd can consume for dessert.”

I stood in amazement, scarce knowing how to express my gratitude.  A sudden desire seized me to put my arms around his neck and give him a genuine filial caress.