The Wise Gift
One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. The pennies were saved one and two at a time by working for frugal people and receiving some money in return. Della counted the money three times. It was only one dollar and eighty-seven cents, and the next day it would be Christmas.
There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the small old couch and cry, so Della did it. Her exasperation was noticeable on her face. She would cry then rest then cry again.
Della took a look at the home she was living in. It was a furnished apartment for $8 per week. It was not exactly an exemplary living space. She looked at all of the unpaid bills on the table: the electric bill, the water bill, and the heating bill. On each one of them was written the name "Mr. James Dillingham Young."
The "Dillingham" family was not always poor. At one time Mr. James Dillingham had a fortuitous job which paid enough. Now, when the income has shrunk to $20 instead of $40 per week, they were always worried about money. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham came home to Della, he was always called "Jim" and greatly hugged by his loving wife.
Della finished her crying and put powder on her florid cheeks. She stood by the window and looked out at a gray cat walking on a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she only had $1.87 to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. She spent many happy hours planning to buy something nice, but now she only has $1.87.
Suddenly, Della whirled from the window and stood by the mirror. Her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.
Jim, the husband, was not a very haughty individual. He was however, extremely proud of two things. One was Jim's gold watch, that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Even queens and princesses couldn’t emulate the beauty of Della’s hair.
So now Della's beautiful hair was shining like waves in the sea on a sunny day. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a dress for her. And then she tied it up again nervously and quickly.
On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she ran out of the door and down the stairs to the street. She ran to a store with a sign which said: “The Madame’s Hair Goods of All Kinds”
"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.
"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take your hat off and let's have a look."
Down rippled the beautiful waves of the sea.
"Twenty dollars," said Madame.
"Give it to me quick," said Della.
The next two hours were spent shopping for Jim’s present.
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. It was a platinum chain, simple in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone, and not by decorations. 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. It cost her $21, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim would be very happy.
When Della reached home she looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.
"Jim will kill me," she said to herself, "he loved my hair. But what could I do--oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty- seven cents?"
At 7 o'clock Jim was on his way home Jim was never late. Della sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stairs which made her turn white for just a moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayers about the simple everyday things. She now 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. Jim stopped inside the door, and froze. 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 with that peculiar expression on his face.
Della stood up and went to hug 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 very 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, as if he was in disbelief.
"Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me anyway? I'm me without my hair, right?"
Jim looked around the room curiously.
"You say your hair is gone?" he said, still confused.
"You don’t need to look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you--sold and gone. It's Christmas Eve. Be good to me. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on, "but nobody could ever count my love for you."
Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He hugged Della. Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it on the table.
"Don't make any mistake about me," he said, " I don't think there's any haircut or shampoo that could make me like you any less. But if you'll unwrap that package on the table, you will see why I was so shocked."
White fingers tore at the string and paper. Then there was an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails.
Inside Jim’s package were The Combs--the set of combs, that Della had worshipped when she saw them in the window of a store. They were beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jeweled rims--just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew. She always yearned for them but never had any hope of actually owning them. She never could have imagined they would be hers; And now, they were hers, but the hair for the combs was gone.
She hugged them close, and said: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!" Then Della leaped up like a little girl and yelled, "Oh, oh!" Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly. The precious metal chain was brilliant.
"Isn't it nice, 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, let's put our Christmas presents away and keep them stored for a while. They're too nice to use now. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs."
And here I have narrated to you the story of two foolish children in an apartment, who unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. Or can it be said that of all who give gifts, these two were the wisest?