Tabitha stared at the neat list with unbelieving eyes, then with a
little jump of delight, she threw both arms around Madame's neck, crying
happily, "Oh, you darling, you witch! I have been wondering and puzzling
for a week to know how I could possibly get thirty-three presents out of
five dollars, but it looks as easy as _a, b, c_, now. Thank you a
thousand times! I am going to begin right away on my gifts, so
everything will surely be finished in time."
"But you must attend to the lessons first," warned the teacher, shaking
her finger playfully at the excited girl.
"Oh, I will, I surely will," she promised, gathering up book and papers.
"I am so glad this is Saturday, for I can commence work at once. All my
Monday's lessons are learned, Chrystobel and Cassandra have gone home
for Sunday, and there is nothing to interfere."
"Then mind you don't work too hard, or I shall be sorry I helped you
stretch your little gold mine."
"I will be very careful, but I _must_ hurry, for there are only seven
weeks before Christmas."
With a parting smile she slipped out of the door and rushed away to her
own room, eager to make with her own hands the pretty lace Madame had
begun for her; and from that moment all her leisure time was devoted to
crocheting ties or painting calendars for her loved ones' Christmas Day.
With the first gleam of dawn she was up in the morning, busy with brush
or hook long before the breakfast bell called them to the day's routine;
at recess and during the noon hour, she was hidden away with Bertha or
Carrie in some nook of the great gardens, making frantic use of every
opportunity; and when the lessons were learned in the evening, back to
back with Chrystobel, she toiled with patient fingers, sighing with
relief as each dainty tie was laid in state beside its finished mates in
her big hat box.
Madame's young friend was glad to take some kodak pictures of the eager
girl, the prints were splendidly clear-cut, and Tabitha was delighted
with the result. So when her busy brush had painted all the cardboard
squares in soft colors, and the carefully trimmed snapshots were
mounted, Tabitha's calendars were really works of art; and her heart was
filled with happiness over what she had achieved.
Just a week before Christmas she slipped the last gift into the hat box
and sat down before it to gloat over her treasures with loving eyes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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