ted china vanity box. Think of it,
gentlemen, these dainty violets are hand painted, and the top is solid
gold-filled. Inside is a soft, dainty, powder puff. How much am I
offered for this beautiful trinket. An ideal gift for wife, sister, or
sweetheart. How much am I offered?"

A man in a far corner of the room bid a quarter. The auctioneer looked
pained. "Only a quarter bid? Gentlemen, it's a shame. The time taken to
decorate it was worth more than that. Only a quarter bid? That gentleman
must be married. Is that all he thinks of his wife?"

The gathering tittered derisively. Came a bid of forty cents as a reward
for his efforts.

"Forty cents," the droning voice went on. "Forty cents--forty--forty,
fifty cents, I thank you--fifty cents, fifty cents, fifty-five,
fifty-five, going at fifty-five, fifty-five, better than nothing,
fifty-five--"

"EIGHTY-FIVE!" shouted John.

"Sold," concluded the auctioneer. "Sold to our friend here at
eighty-five cents. Will the lucky purchaser step up to the cashier?"

With the precious package safely in his pocket, the boy darted for the
car line. Another hour had elapsed, and he dreaded the "penny lecture"
which must be awaiting him on his arrival.

But inside the street car, though the air was stifling, and large,
heedless grown-ups crushed him with each jolt of the uneven roadbed, his
spirits rose buoyantly.

His holiday shopping was concluded. Christmas was less than a week away,
and he had a vision of a beautifully hand-painted vanity box with a
glistening solid gold-filled top greeting him from Louise's chiffonier
when his thousand dollars had been achieved and the age of twenty-one
reached which allowed him the independence of marriage.

CHAPTER XI

HE HAS A VERY HAPPY CHRISTMAS

Christmas Eve! Home to a six-o'clock supper after the daily paper
distribution was finished, and then to bed, "'Cause going to bed early
makes Christmas come sooner, Mother!"

On the back porch, the tree, a big, bushy-branched fir, lay waiting to
be carried into the front hall. The lower floor was filled with
mysterious packages, so disguised by bulky wrappings that their contents
could not even be surmised, and all over the house, from the attic where
the tree decorations were stored, to the holly-trimmed parlor hovered an
air of holiday expectancy.

He loved that thrill, did John. Earlier, the possibilities which Santa's
visit held furnished it to him, for who was to know whic