down Fifth
Avenue, with the dread of a new disaster. Never before had he looked
upon presents as a calamity; but this year it was different.
Immediately he began to plan a bombardment of his friends with costly
trinkets, when he grew suddenly doubtful of the opinion of his uncle's
executor upon this move. But in response to a telegram, Swearengen
Jones, with pleasing irascibility, informed him that "anyone with a
drop of human kindness in his body would consider it his duty to give
Christmas presents to those who deserved them." Monty's way was now
clear. If his friends meant to handicap him with gifts, he knew a way
to get even. For two weeks his mornings were spent at Tiffany's, and
the afternoons brought joy to the heart of every dealer in antiquities
in Fourth and Fifth Avenues. He gave much thought to the matter in the
effort to secure many small articles which elaborately concealed their
value. And he had taste. The result of his endeavor was that many
friends who would not have thought of remembering Monty with even a
card were pleasantly surprised on Christmas Eve.

As it turned out, he fared very well in the matter of gifts, and for
some days much of his time was spent in reading notes of profuse
thanks, which were yet vaguely apologetic. The Grays and Mrs. Dan had
remembered him with an agreeable lack of ostentation, and some of the
"Little Sons of the Rich," who had kept one evening a fortnight open
for the purpose of "using up their meal-tickets" at Monty's, were only
too generously grateful. Miss Drew had forgotten him, and when they met
after the holiday her recognition was of the coldest. He had thought
that, under the circumstances, he could send her a gift of value, but
the beautiful pearls with which he asked for a reconciliation were
returned with "Miss Drew's thanks." He loved Barbara sincerely, and it
cut. Peggy Gray was taken into his confidence and he was comforted by
her encouragement. It was a bit difficult for her to advise him to try
again, but his happiness was a thing she had at heart.

"It's beastly unfair, Peggy," he said. "I've really been white to her.
I believe I'll chuck the whole business and leave New York."

"You're going away?" and there was just a suggestion of a catch in her
breath.

"I'm going to charter a yacht and sail away from this place for three
or four months." Peggy fairly gasped. "What do you think of the
scheme?" he added, noticing the alarm and incredulity in her