tor, but I'm sure Jim would never give me anything that would injure
me."

"I'm sure he isn't fixing to do a thing like that, ma'am, but he's no
botanist."

"And for you, Phyllis...." James handed his wife the awkward bundle to
unwrap for herself.

She tore the papers off slowly. "Oh, Jim, darling, it's--it's--"

"You wanted a bit of green, so I ordered a plant from Earth. You like
it? I hope you do."

"Oh, _Jim_!" She embraced him and the pot simultaneously. "More than
_anything_!"

"It won't stay green," Magnolia observed. "Either it'll turn blue or
it'll die. Puny-looking specimen, isn't it?"

"Well," said James, "it's only a youngster. I guess this Christmas is
too early, but next Christmas there ought to be berries. It's a holly
plant, Phyl."

"Holly," she repeated, her voice shaking a little. "_Holly._" She and
Dr. Cutler exchanged glances.

"I told you, Miz Phyllis, ma'am--he may know the first thing about
botany, but he doesn't know anything after that."

"Jim," Phyllis said, linking her free arm through his, "I misjudged you.
Dr. Cutler is right. You don't know so very much about botany, after
all."

* * * * *

He looked at her blankly. Her voice was trembling, and not with tears
this time. "I love this little plant; it's just what I wanted ... but
there aren't ever going to be any berries, because, to have berries, you
have to have two plants. And the right two. Holly's di--dio--it's just
like us."

"Oh," James said, feeling thoroughly inadequate. "I'm sorry."

"But you mustn't be sorry. I'm going to plant it here on Elysium, and I
hope it will stay green in spite of what she says, and it'll have
blossoms anyway ... and it was very, very sweet of you, dear."

She kissed his cheek.

"Is this one a boy or a girl?" Magnolia asked.

"You-all can't tell till it blooms, Miss Magnolia, ma'am," Dr. Cutler
informed her.

"Maybe I can. Hand it up here, please."

Phyllis paused for an irresolute moment, then, smiling nervously at her
guests, obliged.

"It's a boy," Magnolia announced, after a minute. "A boy." She gave back
the pot reluctantly. "Phyllis," she said, "you and I have never been
friends and I admit that it's been my fault just as much as yours."

"As much as mine?" Phyllis echoed. "I like that--" and was going to go
on when she obviously recollected that they had company, and stopped.

"So I know it's presumptuous of me to ask you a favor."

"Yes,