The guardian. [volume] (Boston, Mass.) 1901-1960, 1939-07-15
SHORT
SHORT
STORY

- - "
SHOKK as if human hands
had never touched
them; as if with the waving of some
fairy wand they had sprung into in
slant and mystery-evoking being.
In the lower bureau drawer of
Miss Eunice Norton's bedroom they
lay through every day in the year
but one, carefully protected from
dust and moisture by a blue silk
covering. But this one day was
the eleventh of April, when the silk
was removed and placed on the
bed whereon the parcels, lifted ten
derby from their long obscurity,
were arranged one by one in neat
precision. The hands that lifted
them on these occasions often trem-
bled and we're caused to brush away
a furtive tear or two; but never in
all the u years of this sacred rite
had tears been allowed to mar the
perfect wilderness of that paper of
superfine quality.
For an hour or more the parcels
always remained in evidence while
Eunice Norton went over them. Not
that she needed any reminder-she
knew them all by heart, down to the
wording of each particular mes
sage. She could have repeated
them without a moments notice.
There were the half dozen handker-
chiefs of finest linen, hemstitched
and monogrammed by her own clev-
err fingers; the beautiful silk tie with
its complicated stitch-(t had taken
exactly half an hour timed by her
little wrist watch to knit three
rounds she remembered); the heavy
vellum-bound gilt-edged book of his
favorite poems which had cost her
her own birthday present; a set of
ebony brushes with his initials in
laid in silver; clock for his table;
a case of pipes; photograph of
herself, charmingly framed; eve
ming dress cuff links, buttons and
studs; an expensive fountain pen;
an exquisite tie pin which she had
spent several months in designing.
They represented money, this
goodly array of gifts; but infinitely
more-they were a feeble express
sion of the love of a woman for the
one mana man who had died as
far as Eunice was concerned.
Twelve years ago he had married
someone else. But the eleventh of
April was still the day of days to
this woman whom circumstances
had forbidden to see him; it was
his birthday.
Whenever the parcels had come
out of the drawer their number had
been increased by one before they
had been returned; but about this
anniversary-the thirteenth-there
was something different. They went
back exactly as they had come
forth. If they had been possessed
of eyes, they would have seen that
the look in the face above them was
less fearful and held more of pur-
pose than ever previously; and if
the kind fairy, suspected of being
their creator, had endowed them
with the power to hear-not only
words but thoughts-they would
have listened intently to what the
mind and heart of Eunice Norton
was saying:
mo, it's wrong of me. They're
not doing anyone the least bit of
good lying there in the drawer. It
isn't as if he would ever see them
l am sure that he never will. I've
been only thinking-yes, that's it
of myself, and I'm not going to do
it any more"
With unwonted haste she put the
parcels back, covered them, and
closed the drawer. 81 shall give
them all away when 1 see someone
who needs then," she continued her
silent monologue.
It was only a little white envelope
that was slipped into the bureau that
night; there was no card, no ribbon,
only a slip of paper on which were
few quickly written words. They
ran as follows:
my Dear-How wish you hap
by birthday and all the happiness
possible all through the years; from
early morning until now I've been
wishing it, though I've got nothing
for you this time-nothing except
to tell you that I took the whole
Dunkley Orphanage, including
Mother Dunkley, to see Peter Pan,
and afterwards we went and had ice
cream cones at 'Buttercups and
Daisies This is your present, my
dear, and oh! hope you will like it.
81 wish, Owen, that you could
have seen all those delighted faces
the littlest one especially: the
child it belonged to made me think
of the youngest Darling in the
picture; he had the same curly hair
and big, wondering eyes. All the
way home he kept talking about
the fairies. And now, tonight, l am
so happy.
every year in future this is the
sort of present l am going to give
you; maybe it will be something
for old ladies next time, or old men;
maybe l shall hire a big car and
take some workers who can't often
e.