She held out a specimen letter as she spoke, and, looking at it, General Digby went off into such a convulsion of laughter, coughing, and panting for breath, that he presented a truly alarming spectacle. The protuberant eyes protruded farther and farther, the tuft of grey hair seemed to rear itself more stiffly erect, his cheeks changed from red to purple. It was not a time for ceremony, and Jill promptly pounded him on the back until he recovered himself sufficiently to shake her off, declaring forcibly that the cure was worse than the disease. Then he subsided into a chair, and wiped his eyes elaborately with a bandana handkerchief. "Where's my letter?" he inquired. "I suppose there's one addressed to me among all that number. Was I as fortunate as the rest in sending just what was wanted? You are a young woman of a great many wants, it seems to me. Tell you what now: I'll strike a bargain! Fill up the blanks, and I'll see if I can come up to expectation! Eh, what?" "Oh no!" cried Jill, blushing with an embarrassment which yet had in it a fearful joy, for who would have thought that such a new friend would enrol himself in the blessed ranks of present-givers? "There is no letter for you. I truly never thought you would give us anything," she explained hesitatingly. "I couldn't possibly choose myself. It's awfully good of you to think of it, but, really, anything--It's like this, you see; I want everything I can get!" "Oh, you do, do you?" cried the General, beginning to shake again in the old, alarming, jelly-like fashion. "Nothing like honesty in this world, my dear. Well, well, we must see what we can do! I'll bend my great mind to the question, and you shall know the result on Christmas Day." Jill smiled uncertainly. Already she was beginning to repent her modesty. Suppose she had taken her courage into her hands, and had said boldly, "A gold watch," could it possibly have been true that the ambition of a lifetime would have been gratified, as by the stroke of a magician's wand? Really and truly the General had tumbled (literally tumbled) into their lives in the most unexpected fashion, and to begin talking of presents upon an acquaintance of a month's standing proved him to be something far superior to ordinary mortals. Jill made up her mind to change the nickname of Victim for that of Magician from this time forward. Presently Betty appeared, a pensive, melancholy Betty, chilly about the fingers, and nippy about the nose, much oppressed by the feeling that she worked while others played, and had no thanks for her pains, and was altogether too good for a world in which her excellencies were unappreciated. As usual, her hair was dressed in accordance with her mood, a brush dipped in water having been employed to flatten out the curls which had been painfully achieved a few hours before.