"Oh, yes, they'll go all right," her husband had replied, in a particularly cheery voice. Jasper was not cheery, however, within. He was nervous and anxious. A terrible fear had clutched his heart: what if he could not--but then, he must find something, he enjoined himself. And with that he started downtown at once. He did not go to the office this time, but sought the stores immediately. He found conditions now even worse than before. Every one seemed to have an Uncle Harold for whom was frenziedly being sought the unattainable. If at nine o'clock Jasper had been nervous, at ten he was terrified, and at eleven he was nearly frantic. All power of decision seemed to have left him, and he stumbled vaguely on and on, scarcely knowing what he was doing. It was then that his eye fell on a huge sign: "Just the thing for Christmas! When in doubt, buy me!" There was a crowd before the sign, but Jasper knew now how to use his elbows. Once at his goal he stared in amazement. Then the tension snapped, and he laughed outright--before him were half a dozen cages of waltzing mice. For a long time the curious whirls and antics of the odd little creatures in their black-and-white coats held Jasper's gaze in a fascinated stare. Then the man, obeying an impulse that he scarcely understood himself, made his purchase, gave explicit directions where and when it was to be sent, and left the store. Then, and not until then, did Jasper Hawkins fully realize that to his Uncle Harold--the rich old man who must be petted and pampered, and never by any chance offended--he had sent as a Christmas present a cage of dancing mice! That night Mrs. Hawkins fearlessly asked her questions, and as fearlessly her husband answered them. He had determined to assume a bold front. However grave might be his own doubts and fears, he had resolved that she should not know of them. "Presents? Of course! They went to-day with our love," he answered gayly. "And what--did you send?" "The simplest things in the world; a string of handsome beads to Aunt Harriet, a pair of skates to Jimmy, and a cage of the funniest little waltzing mice you ever saw, to Uncle Harold. You see it all resolves itself down to a mere matter of system," he went on; but at the real agony in his wife's face he stopped in dismay. "Why, Edith!" "Jasper, you didn't--you _did n't_ send _skates_ to Jimmy!" "But I did. Why not?" "But, Jasper, he's--lame!" Jasper fell back limply. All the bravado fled from his face. "Edith, how could I--how could I--_forget_--a thing like that!" he groaned. "And beads for Aunt Harriet! Why, Jasper, I never saw a bead on her neck! You know how poor she is, and how plain she dresses. I always give her useful, practical things!" Jasper said nothing. He was still with Jimmy and the skates. He wished he had bought a book--a wicked book, if need be; anything would be better than those skates.