"Beg your pardon?" "I have never seen you so thoughtful, my boy. However, I believe I know what you are thinking about. It _is_ a difficult problem, is it not?" "Yes, I was just--" "--thinking what you could get me for a birthday present," interrupted the Phoenix. "Am I not correct?" David, who had not even given this a thought until now, flushed. "Aha!" said the Phoenix triumphantly. "Just as I thought! Believe me, my dear fellow, when you have been around as long as _I_ have, you can read the minds of your friends as easily as a book. Now, the problem of what to give is a hard one at any time, but the problem of what to give for a five hundredth birthday is even harder. A monogrammed ash tray? I do not receive cigars often enough to make that practical. A hand-knitted sweater? It would not fit (they never do). A gold-plated watch chain? I have no watch. No, the best idea would be to get me something which I can use." "Certainly, Phoenix," David stammered. "What _do_ you want, then?" "Ah! We have reached the kernel of the problem. And the answer, my boy, is this: cinnamon." "Cinnamon?" "Precisely. Also a box of matches--the kind that strike anywhere, you know." "Well--all right. It doesn't sound like much of a present, but if that's what you really want.... What are you going to do with them, Phoenix? I mean, if you don't mind my asking." "The plain fact is, my boy," said the Phoenix doubtfully, "the plain fact is--well, I do not know. Odd! But something tells me I shall need them. Well, it will come to me in the morning, no doubt. And then, of course, I shall be very glad to have them on hand." "All right, cinnamon and matches, then. And I'll get some--no, I won't tell you _that_. It'll be a surprise." "A surprise? Splendid, my boy! You could not, I suppose, drop me a small hint? No? But of course not--one hint and my powerful Intellect could guess everything--and then the surprise would be spoiled. Well, until tomorrow, then!" * * * * * [Illustration] That evening David shut himself in his room and robbed his bank. It was a squat, cast-iron box, with "A Penny Saved Is A Penny Earned" in raised letters on one side. The only way to open it was to smash it with a crowbar, but it could be emptied. It had to be tilted just so, with a knife blade in the slot to catch the coins and guide them out. This is what David did, with a bread knife borrowed from the kitchen. It was a slow, uncertain job, and one coin (he guessed it was a dime by the way it rattled) never did come out. But the rest, which included his change from Uncle Charles's present, would be enough.