HALF giving! Instances of such gold-plated parsimonious generosity I could cite all day--from the old-fashioned “thrifty” housewife, who used to cut all the buttons off the clothes before she gave them to the poor, to sweet, sympathetic Oval, who visited an invalid. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, “I bought the loveliest bunch of roses for you, but I forgot them--left them in the hotel.” And Oval, after that (although the flowers of course never came), fully expected to be credited with a kindness. Oh, you know them. You must know them! The half-giver who invites his party to supper after the theatre, but fails to reserve a table. How surprised and apologetic he is to find all the places taken! The gent who escorts his lady to the theater, too, and, when they come out, exclaims: “Gee, doesn’t this fresh air seem good, after that stuffy house! Let’s walk a way!” How bright his smile! Truly the heart, as well as the clothes, can be shabby-genteel. That kind of liberality he has that many women possess. Oh, yes, they insist upon paying for their half of the dinner, but they always forget to share the tips! You remember those Liberty Loan subscribers who used to say, “I’ll subscribe one thousand if you’ll take another!” That’s the way these half-givers usually leave you to complete their gifts or go and get them or something--to pay some part of the price yourself, anyway, in trouble or in work. Dear Alfredine was kind enough to bring her friend from abroad several pairs of earrings. But, alas! as they were made for those grandmothery old pierced ears her friend had to pay a jeweler to have them fitted with screw fastenings, just nine dollars, a sum she could ill afford--at least for earrings. * * * * * “I’d rather not try, please,” said Alice. “I’m quite content to stay here--only I _am_ so hot and thirsty!” “I know what _you’d_ like,” the Queen said good-naturedly, taking a little box out of her pocket. “Have a biscuit?” * * * * * KIND you may think you are, and never know you are not kind. And worse than all the rest are those who force their presents on you. My indulgent uncle, once, presented me with theatre tickets to see Bernhardt. Now it so happened that day that at the last moment I had the opportunity to meet a man, a famous man, whom I had long wanted to know, and who proved to be of the greatest help to me. When I told my uncle, was he pleased to hear of my good luck? Not at all. Never did he forgive me for not using his tickets. How many men who have taken the pains to secure a friend a good position are pleased to hear that he himself has discovered a better one? Only those with the Educated Heart. Like my uncle, most care more for that self-flattering glow of kindliness than for another’s best happiness.