"And disappoint Phebe? Never!" cried Miss Ri. "She is counting upon feeding you up. I told her you were getting thin and pale because they didn't give you enough to eat at the Jackson House, and she is fairly aching to provide for you. She will have to cook for herself, and why not for you? Besides, you are her choice of the whole townful, so you should feel flattered." "I do," returned Berkley, "and very grateful to both you and her. I'll come, Miss Ri. When do you start?" "The day after Christmas. You'll be back by then?" "Oh, yes, I'll be back. I shall go to town only for the day, and must be here for various reasons as soon as practicable." "Then that is settled. Merry Christmas, Berk. I wish you could dine with us, but I know your mother's mind, and I wouldn't even suggest such a thing." Miss Ri's box of books provided several gifts for outsiders, but for Linda was a special gift obtained, a fine soft evening cloak, something she did not possess, and which she would need during her holiday visit. From the new cousin came a handsome set of books and a box of flowers, the latter for both ladies. A very ornate, wholly impossible scarf of coarse texture arrived from Grace for her sister-in-law. "It just looks like her," commented Miss Ri. "You can always tell underbred people by the presents they give. No lady would look twice at a thing like that. Why didn't she send you one plain fine handkerchief, if she didn't want to spend her money for something handsome? It would at least have shown some refined taste." "I don't believe she knows any better," returned Linda, by way of excuse. "Exactly," replied Miss Ri. From Berk came merely an unostentatious little card for Linda, though for Miss Ri arrived a fine potted plant. "I'll allow you to look at it," remarked the recipient with a little laugh. Not even a card found its way from Linda to Berkley, though in her upper drawer lay a half-finished blue silk tie. She had stopped working on it long before.