ONE DOLLAR AND EIGHTY-SEVEN CENTS.
That was all. She had put it aside, one cent and then another and then
another, in her careful buying of meat and other food. Della counted
it three times. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day
would be Christmas.
There was nothing to do but fall on the bed and cry. So Della did it.
While the lady of the home is slowly growing quieter, we can
look at the home. Furnished rooms at a cost of $8 a week. There is little
more to say about it.
In the hall below was a letter-box too small to hold a letter. There
was an electric bell, but it could not make a sound. Also there was a
name beside the door: “Mr. James Dillingham Young.”
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O . H e n r y
When the name was placed there, Mr. James Dillingham Young
was being paid $30 a week. Now, when he was being paid only $20 a
week, the name seemed too long and important. It should perhaps have
been “Mr. James D. Young.” But when Mr. James Dillingham Young
entered the furnished rooms, his name became very short indeed. Mrs.
James Dillingham Young put her arms warmly about him and called
him “Jim.” You have already met her. She is Della.
Della finished her crying and cleaned the marks of it from her face.
She stood by the window and looked out with no interest. Tomorrow
would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy
Jim a gift. She had put aside as much as she could for months, with this
result. Twenty dollars a week is not much. Everything had cost more
than she had expected. It always happened like that.
Only $ 1.87 to buy a gift for Jim. Her Jim. She had had many happy
hours planning something nice for him. Something nearly good enough.
Something almost worth the honor of belonging to Jim.
There was a looking-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps
you have seen the kind of looking-glass that is placed in $8 furnished
rooms. It was very narrow. A person could see only a little of
himself at a time. However, if he was very thin and moved very quickly,
he might be able to get a good view of himself. Della, being quite thin,
had mastered this art.
Suddenly she turned from the window and stood before the glass.
Her eyes were shining brightly, but her face had lost its color. Quickly
she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its complete length.
The James Dillingham Youngs were very proud of two things which
they owned. One thing was Jim’s gold watch. It had once belonged to
his father. And, long ago, it had belonged to his father’s father. The
other thing was Della’s hair.
If a queen had lived in the rooms near theirs, Della would have
washed and dried her hair where the queen could see it. Della knew
her hair was more beautiful than any queen’s jewels and gifts.
If a king had lived in the same house, with all his riches, Jim would
have looked at his watch every time they met. Jim knew that no king
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T h e G i f t o f t h e M a g i
had anything so valuable.
So now Della’s beautiful hair fell about her, shining like a falling
stream of brown water. It reached below her knee. It almost made itself
into a dress for her.
And then she put it up on her head again, nervously and quickly.
Once she stopped for a moment and stood still while a tear or two ran
down her face.
She put on her old brown coat. She put on her old brown hat.
With the bright light still in her eyes, she moved quickly out the door
and down to the street.
Where she stopped, the sign said: “Mrs. Sofronie. Hair Articles
of all Kinds.”
Up to the second floor Della ran, and stopped to get her breath.
Mrs. Sofronie, large, too white, cold-eyed, looked at her.
“Will you buy my hair?” asked Della.
“I buy hair,” said Mrs. Sofronie. “Take your hat off and let me look
at it.”
Down fell the brown waterfall.
“Twenty dollars,” said Mrs. Sofronie, lifting the hair to feel its
weight.
“Give it to me quick,” said Della.
Oh, and the next two hours seemed to fly. She was going from
one shop to another, to find a gift for Jim.
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 shops, and she had looked
in every shop in the city.
It was a gold watch chain, very simply made. Its value was in its
rich and pure material. Because it was so plain and simple, you knew
that it was very valuable. All good things are like this.
It was good enough for The Watch.
As soon as she saw it, she knew that Jim must have it. It was like
him. Quietness and value—Jim and the chain both had quietness and
value. She paid twenty-one dollars for it. And she hurried home with
the chain and eighty-seven cents.
3
O . Henry
With that chain on his watch, Jim could look at his watch and
learn the time anywhere he might be. Though the watch was so fine,
it had never had a fine chain. He sometimes took it out and looked at
it only when no one could see him do it.
When Della arrived home, her mind quieted a little. She began to
think mo