Dr. Lavendar looked at her and at the hole in the package, and at her again. "Lydia!" he said, "is it possible that you--? _Lydia!_" he ended, speechless with consternation. "The other things are all for the party." "The--party?" "Presents!" she said, rubbing her hands. "Oh, dear! I'm so tired! And I'm so happy! Oh, nobody was ever so happy. The party (that's the secret) is to be next Thursday a week; that gives me time to make my dress. I ordered the cake in Mercer. All pink-and-white icing--perfectly lovely! And I have a present for everybody. Here's a work-basket for Martha King. And I have a bird-cage and a canary for dear Willy (that is to come down to-morrow; I really couldn't carry everything). And I've got a knitted shawl for Maria Welwood, and a cloak for her dear Rose--that was rather expensive, but it's always cheap to get the best. And a cornelian breast-pin for Alice Gray. And a Roman sash for poor little Mary Gordon; she seems to me such a forlorn child--no mother, and that rough Alex for a brother. And--well; oh, dear! I'm so excited I can hardly remember--a book for Mr. Ezra; a book for Mrs. Dale. Books are safe presents, don't you think?" Dr. Lavendar groaned. "And a picture for Rachel King--that's it; that square bundle. So pretty!--a little girl saying her prayers; sweet!--it's like her Anna. And a box of candy for Sally Smith's little brothers; and a pair of agate cuff-buttons for Sally--" She was moving her packages about as she checked them off, and she looked round at Dr. Lavendar with a sigh of pure joy. He could not speak his distracted thought. "Oh, you mustn't see that," she cried, suddenly pushing a certain package under the others with great show of secrecy; and Dr. Lavendar groaned again. "I think a party with presents for everybody will be very unusual, don't you?" she asked, heaping her bundles up carefully; two more fingers had burst through her cotton gloves, and as she leaned forward a button snapped off her jacket. "I don't want to brag," she said, "but I think it will be as nice a party as we have ever had in Old Chester." "But, Lydia, my dear," Dr. Lavendar said, gently, "I am afraid it is extravagant, isn't it, to try to give us all so much pleasure? And is a blue silk frock very--well, serviceable, I believe, you ladies call it?" "No, indeed it isn't," she said, with sudden, pathetic passion. "_That's why I got it_. I never, since I was a girl, have had anything that wasn't serviceable." "But," Dr. Lavendar said, "I rather hoped you would see your way clear to making your house a little more comfortable?" "Why, but I'm perfectly comfortable," she assured him; "and even if I was not, I'd rather, just for once in my life, have my party and give my presents. Oh, just once in a lifetime! I'd rather," she said, and her eyes snapped with joy--"I'd rather have next Thursday night, and my house as it is, than just comfort all the rest of my days. Comfort! What's comfort?"