sue
paper. How glad I am that I can get a pretty postcard for each of the
other girls! Even then, I will have more than half a dollar left.
Perhaps I can find a piece of linen and make Tom a handkerchief or two.
I'll ask--"

"Puss, Puss!" called an excited voice in the corridor, and an impatient
fist pounded loudly on the door. Tabitha started nervously, dropped the
cover down over her treasures and pushed the box hurriedly into the
closet, calling cheerily, "Come in, Carrie!"

"I can't; you have locked the door!"

The black-eyed girl flew to turn the key, and rosy, excited Carrie burst
into the room, crying, "See what I got for papa! It just came from the
store. Miss Pomeroy helped me choose it. I wanted to show it to you
first. Isn't it splendid? And won't he like it?" She laid a beautifully
carved box on the table and danced gleefully about the room while
Tabitha examined the purchase.

"Well, I should think he would," she said enthusiastically in answer to
Carrie's question. "What is it for?"

"It's a sort of a writing-desk for him to carry around in his grip when
he goes away, so he can write any time he wants to. See the paper,
business size, letter and note paper. Here is a box for stamps, and
there is a place for pen and pencils. I wanted to get him a fountain
pen, too, but mamma said she would attend to that, to be sure it was a
nice one. I can just see him now when he opens it. Oh, I wish Christmas
would hurry! What are you going to give your father, Puss?"

Tabitha's face flushed scarlet, and she murmured in embarrassment, "I
don't believe he cares anything about Christmas. He never has observed
it since I can remember."

"Oh!" said Carrie. "Well, I must take my box back and wrap it up. Where
are you going?"

"It is nearly time for our walk and Miss Pomeroy has promised some of us
a tramp to town for tissue paper, ribbon, cards and such little things
that won't take long to get. Didn't you know? Ask her if you can't go. I
think there are only six or seven of us so far. One more will only make
it the jollier."

"I would like to," answered Carrie wistfully, "but this is my hour to
practice for the cantata. Bye-bye!"

Carrie whisked across the hall to her room and Tabitha, haunted by that
careless question, descended the stairs to wait for the group of
shoppers to gather.

The day was bright and warm, the winter rains had washed the dusty
foliage clean, and it seemed as if spring had already begun