he had framed his
first sentence. It was the sentiment, Felix insisted, which was to be
considered, the good feeling behind the gift, not the cost of it. He and
Masie had worked it all out together, and please not to interfere.

But Kling did interfere, and right royally, too, when he found time to
think it over. Some one of the old German legends must have worked its
way through the dull crust of his brain, bringing back memories of his
childhood. Perhaps his conscience was pricked by his clerk's attitude.
Whatever the cause, certain it is that he crept up-stairs a few hours
before his house was to be thrown open to Masie's guests, and, finding
the banquet hall completely finished and nobody about, Felix and Masie
having gone out together to perfect some little detail connected with
the gifts, walked around in an aimless way, overwhelmed by the beauty
and charm of the interior as it lay before him in the afternoon light.

On his way down he met the deaf Gossburger coming up.

"Dot is awful nice!" he shouted. "I couldn't believe dot was possible!
Dot is a vunderful--VUNderful man! I don't see how dem rags and dot
stuff look like dot ven you get 'em togedder anodder vay. And now dere
is vun thing I don't got in my head yet: Vot is it about dese presents?"

The old woman recounted the details as best she could.

"And dot is all, is it, Auntie Gossburger? Only of pasteboard boxes
vid candies in 'em, and little pieces paper vid writings on 'em dot Mr.
O'Day makes? Is dot vot you mean?"

The old woman nodded.

Kling turned suddenly, went down-stairs with his head up and shoulders
back, called Hans to keep shop, and put on his hat.

When he returned an hour later, he was followed by a man carrying a big
box. This was placed behind Masie's throne and so concealed by a rug
that even Felix missed seeing it.

That everybody had accepted--everybody who had been invited--"big,
little, and middle-sized"--goes without saying. Masie had called at each
house herself, with Felix as cavalier--just as he had promised her. And
they had each and every one, immediately abandoned all other plans
for that particular night, promising to be there as early as could be
arranged, it being a Saturday and the shops on "The Avenue" open an hour
later than usual--an indulgence counterbalanced by the fact that next
day was Sunday and they could all sleep as long as they pleased.

And not only the neighbors, but Nat Ganger and Sam Dogger acce