Now, there

were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both

took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's

and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the queen of Sheba

lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang

out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels

and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled

up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he

passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.

So now Della's

beautiful hair fell about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown

waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for

her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered

for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn

red carpet.

...

She found it

at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no

other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside

out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly

proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation

as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon

as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim's. It was like him. Quietness

and value the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took

from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain

on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company.

Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account

of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.

...

Jim was never

late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of

the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step

on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just

a moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayer about the simplest

everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please God, make him think

I am still pretty."

The door opened

and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor

fellow, he was only 22 and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new

overcoat and he was without gloves.

Jim stopped

inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes

were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could

not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval,

nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for.

He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.

Della wriggled

off the table and went for him. "Jim, darling," she cried, "don't

look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't

have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow

out again you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows

awfully fast. Say `Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't

know what a nice what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."

"You've

cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived

at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.

"Cut it

off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well,

anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I?"

Jim looked

about the room curiously.

"You say

your hair is gone?" he said, with an air almost of idiocy.

"You needn't

look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you sold and gone,

too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe

the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on with sudden serious

sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I

put the chops on, Jim?"

"Don't

make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's

anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make

me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see

why you had me going a while at first."

White fingers

and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of

joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails,

necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of

the lord of the flat.

For there lay

The Combs the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long

in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled

rims just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were

expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned

over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers,

but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.

But she hugged

them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes

and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"

And them Della

leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"

Jim had not

yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her

open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of

her bright and ardent spirit.

"Isn't

it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to look

at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see

how it looks on it."

Instead of

obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back

of his head and smiled.

"Dell,"

said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a while.

They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money

to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on."

The magi, as

you know, were wise men wonderfully wise men who brought gifts to the

Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents.

Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the

privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related

to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who

most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their

house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that

of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and receive

gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the

magi.