l others. Witticisms at the expense of a rich old
bachelor uncle whose heir was a matter of his own choosing were best
kept pretty much to one's self. Edith was right, however, in one
thing, Jasper decided: Uncle Harold surely could not be given a
"paltry" present. He must be given something fine, expensive, and
desirable--something that one would like one's self. And immediately
there popped into Jasper's mind the thought of a certain exquisitely
carved meerschaum which he had seen in a window and which he had
greatly coveted. As for Aunt Harriet and Jimmy--their case was too
simple for even a second thought: to one he would give a pair of
bed-slippers; to the other, a book.

Some minutes later Jasper Hawkins tucked into his pocketbook an oblong
bit of paper on which had been neatly written:--

Presents to be bought for Christmas, 1908:

Aunt Harriet, spinster, 58(?) years old--Bed-slippers.

Uncle Harold, bachelor, 65 years old--Pipe.

Jimmy, boy, 12 years old--Book.

In the office of Hawkins & Hawkins that morning, the senior member of
the firm found a man waiting for him. This man was the emissary of his
mighty chief, and upon this chief rested the whole structure of a
"deal" which was just then looming large on the horizon of Hawkins &
Hawkins--and in which the oblong bit of paper in Jasper's pocketbook
had no part.

Mrs. Jasper Hawkins greeted her husband with palpitating interest that
evening.

"Well--what did you get?" she asked.

The man of business lifted his chin triumphantly.

"Not everything we asked for, to be sure," he began, "but we got more
than we expected to, and--" He stopped abruptly. The expression on
his wife's face had suddenly reminded him that by no possible chance
could she know what he was talking about. "Er--what do you mean?" he
demanded.

"Why, Jasper, there's only one thing I could mean--the presents, you
know!"

A curious something clutched at Jasper's breath and held it for a
moment suspended. Then Jasper throttled the something, and raised his
chin even higher.

"Time enough for that to-morrow," he retorted lightly. "I did n't
promise to get them to-day, you know."

"But, Jasper, to-morrow 's the 22d!"

"And three whole days before Christmas."

"Yes, but they must be sent the 24th."

"And they'll _be_ sent, my dear," declared Jasper, in a tone of voice
that was a cold dismissal of the subject.

On the morning of the 22d, Jasper Hawkins told himself t