The Caucasian. (Shreveport, La.) 1900-192?, 1909-12-12

cd on the worn red carpet.
On went her old brown jacket; on
went her old brown hat With whirl
Of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle
still in her eyes she tuttered out the
door and down the stairs to the street.
Where she stopped the sign read:
Mime. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All
Kinds" One flight up Della ran and
collected herself, painting. Madame.
large, too white, chilly, hardly looked
the "Sofronie'
Twill you buy my hair?' asked Della.
81 buy hair" said madame. Take
yer hat off and let's have a sight at
the looks of it."
Down rippled the brown cascade.
Twenty dollars" said madame, lift
ing the mass with practiced hand.
Give it to me quick" said Della.
Oh. and the next two hours tripped
by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed
metaphor. She was ransacking the
stores for Jim's present.
She found it at last. 1t surely had
been made for jim and no one else.
There was no other like it i'll any of
the stores, and she had turned all OF
them inside out 1t was platinum
fob chain, simple and chaste in design,
properly proclaiming it's value by sub
stance alone and not by meretricious
ornamentation, as I'LL good things
should do 1t was even worthy of the
watch. AS soon as she saw it she
knew that it must be Jim's. 1t was
like him. Quietness and value-the de-
scription applied to both. Twenty-one
dollars they took from her for it. and
she hurried home with the 81 cents.
| With that chain on his watch Jim
| might be properly anxious about the
| time in any company Grand as the
| watch was, he sometimes looked at it
ON the sly on account of the old leather
strap that he used in place of chain.
When Della reached home her intox-
ication gave way a little to prudence
and reason She got out her curling
irons and lighted the gas and went to
work repairing the rayages made by
generosity added to love, which is al
ways a tremendous task. dear friends
"a mammoth task.
Within forty minutes her head was
covered with tiny, close lying curls
that made her look wonderfully like
truan! schooIboy She looked at her
reflection in the mirror long, carefully
and critically.
IF Jim doesn't kill me-" she said to
herself before he takes a second look
at me he'll say | look like a Coney Is
land chorus girl. But what could l
do-oh, what could / do with $1.S72"
At Z o'clock the coffee was made and
the frying pan was on the back of the
stove, hot and ready to cook the chops.
Jim was never late. Della doubled
the fob chain in her hand and sat on
the corner of the table near the door
that he always entered. Then she
heard his step on the stair away down
on the first fight, and she turned
white for just moment. She had a
habit Of saying little silent prayers
about the simplest everyday things,
and now she whispered, please, God,
make him think | am still pretty"
The door opened, and Jim stepped in
and closed it. He looked thin and very
serious. Poor fellow! He was only
ltwenty-two-and to be burdened with
a family! He needed new overcoat,
and he was without gloves.
/ Jim stopped inside the door, as i'm
movable as a setter at the scent OF
quail His eyes were fixed upon Della,
and there was an expression in them
that she could not read, and it terrified
her. 1t was not anger nor surprise
nor disapproval nor horror nor any OF
the sentiments that she had been pre-.
pared for. He simply stared at her
fxedly with that peculiar expression
on his face.
Della wriggled off the table and went
for him.
Jim, darling" she cried, "don't look
at me that wayi l had my hair cut of
and sold it because | couldn't have
lived through Christmas without Civ
ing you present. It'll grow out again
You won't mind, will you? just had
to do it. My hair grows awfully fast
Say Merry Christmasy Jim and let's
be happy. You don't know what nice
what a beautiful, nice gift I've got
for you"
you've cut off your hair?' asked
Jim laboriously. rs If he had not ar
rived at that patent fact yet even after
the hardest mental labor
"Cut it off and sold it, said Della
Don't you like me just as well any
how? I'm me without my hair, ain't
IT.
Jim looked about the room curiously
you say your hair is gomez? he
said. with an air almost of idiocy.
You needn't lock for it." said Della
Its sold, tell you-sold and gone too
It's Christmas eve, boy. Be good tt
me. for it went for you Maybe the
hairs of my head were numbered" she
went on, with sudden serious sweet
mess, "but nobody could ever count my
love for you. Shall put the chops on
Jim?"
Out of his trance jim seemed quick