"Martin," said Mr. Black, huskily, "you go to the storeroom in the basement. Take a hatchet with you and knock the top off that wooden box that is marked with a big blue cross and bring it up here to me." Presently Martin, who always blundered if there was the very faintest excuse for blundering, returned, proudly bearing the cover of the large box. "Thank you," replied Mr. Black, turning twinkling eyes upon Mrs. Crane, who twinkled back. "Now bring up the box with all the things in it." "I'll get my things, too," offered Mrs. Crane. "They're right here in the library closet, in a clothes hamper." Then when Martin had brought the box, the two middle-aged people began to sort their presents. They went about it rather awkwardly because neither had had much experience; but they were certainly enjoying their novel occupation. "This," said Mr. Black, clearing a space on the big library table, "is Bettie's pile, and Heaven knows that I tried not to get it bigger than the other three; but everything I saw in the shops shouted 'Buy me for Bettie'--and I usually obeyed." "This is Jean's pile," said Mrs. Crane, baring another space, "and I guess I feel about Jean the way you do about Bettie; but I love Bettie too--and all of them. Rosa Marie's things will have to go on the floor--they're mostly bumpy and breakable." Mr. Black rummaged in his box, Mrs. Crane fished in her basket. Presently there was a rapidly growing, untidy heap of large, lumpy bundles on the floor for Rosa Marie, and four very neat stacks of square, compact parcels for the Cottagers. "Let's open them all," suggested Mr. Black, eagerly. "We can tie them up again." So the elderly couple, as interested as two children, opened their packages. At first, both were too busy renewing acquaintanceship with their own purchases to notice what the other was doing; but presently Mrs. Crane gave a start as her eye traveled over the table. "Why, Peter Black," she exclaimed. "Here are two watches in Bettie's pile!" "I didn't buy but one of them," declared Mr. Black, placing his finger on one of the dainty timepieces. "That's mine." "The other's mine," confessed Mrs. Crane. "And, Peter, did you go and buy dolls all around, too?" "I did," owned Mr. Black, opening a long narrow box. "One _always_ buys dolls for Christmas." "Well," sighed Mrs. Crane, "I guess they can stand two apiece, because ours are not a bit alike. You see, you got carried away by fine clothes and I paid more attention to the dolls themselves. The bodies are first-class and the faces are lovely. I bought mine undressed and I've had four weeks' pleasure dressing them--I sort of hate to give them up. The clothes are plain and substantial; I couldn't make 'em fancy." "But the watches, Sarah?" "Well, I guess we'll have to send half of those watches back. Yours are the nicest--we'll keep yours."