Next day I came upon a shop in a back street--it was in the Chinese quarter of the town. There were the most beautiful blue and yellow fruit plates and dishes, enough to make a thousand homes happy. They were so pretty that I danced with rage upon the pavement. I bought all I wanted and rearranged my list for the third time. It was getting dreadfully expensive. Cousin Jemima’s “three-eleven-three” had left her now, and she had been reduced to a pin-cushion at ninepence-halfpenny. Pauline’s soup-bowl was exchanged for a set of fruit-dishes which were much nicer, and then I remembered that she wanted one of my new photographs. I had ordered a dozen and they must be disposed of. I went home and rearranged my list again, which left me with two glass powder-boxes over. When James came in and said, “Have you thought at all about Christmas presents?” I could scarcely answer coherently. He asked whether I could spare him any, and I told him that there were two powder-boxes he could have with pleasure. But that was no good, as none of his relations use powder. It was early-closing day, so we could not get anything else. He told me he had six boxes of cigarettes that I might have for my people if I could let him have something more suitable for his grandmother and the vicar’s children, so I gave him Pauline’s children’s sweets, and Cousin Jemima’s pin-cushion, and some of the Chinese dishes, and began all over again. This time there were three powder-boxes left, and my godson and James’s uncle were unprovided for. (James’s uncle was in a nursing home, so it was particularly important that he should have a cheery Christmas.) I suggested that we should tell him I was sending a photograph, but that James had spilt ink on it and I had ordered another specially, which would come in a few days. Meantime we were sending a powder-box to each of his nurses. “He will have a much gayer time like that than with ordinary presents,” I added hopefully. Clara came in then and said that Mullins had finished putting up the holly, and was there any message. “I believe that the orthodox Christmas message is Peace and Goodwill,” I said. “Tell Mullins that I wish him peace and shall be glad of some myself.” Clara withdrew with the message, but came back to say that Mullins wished us both the compliments of the season, and was there anything else? I had only two halfpennies left, so I told Clara to tell him that if he were as wise as he pretended to be it was his part to bring gold at Christmas, not to ask for it, but that there was a small bottle of myrrh in the bathroom----However, James said I was not to be silly, so we borrowed a message from Ruth and promised to pay her back in the morning if she would get rid of Mullins. And then we did up our parcels, all but the powder-boxes. It was too late when I remembered that I might have given one to Mullins; he could have made himself look quite freshened up for Christmas with it.