O Henry - The Gift of Magi (O Henry)

ONE dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty centsof it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time bybulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher untilones cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony thatsuch close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. Onedollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would beChristmas.

There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabbylittle couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moralreflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, withsniffles predominating.

While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from thefirst stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnishedflat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but itcertainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancysquad.

In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letterwould go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger couldcoax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing thename Mr. James Dillingham Young.

The Dillingham had been flung to the breeze during a formerperiod of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 perweek. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they werethinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. Butwhenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flatabove he was called Jim and greatly hugged by Mrs. JamesDillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is allvery good.

Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with thepowder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a graycat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would beChristmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim apresent. She had been saving every penny she could for months, withthis result. Twenty dollars a week doesnt go far. Expenses hadbeen greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spentplanning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare andsterlingsomething just a little bit near to being worthy of thehonor of being owned by Jim.

There was a pier glass between the windows of the room. Perhapsyou have seen a pier glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and veryagile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequenceof longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of hislooks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.

Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass.Her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its colorwithin twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let itfall to its full length.

Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngsin which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jims gold watchthat had been his fathers and his grandfathers. The other wasDellas hair. Had the queen of Sheba lived in the flat across theairshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window someday to dry just to depreciate Her Majestys jewels and gifts. HadKing Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up inthe basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time hepassed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.

So now Dellas beautiful hair fell about her rippling andshining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her kneeand made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it upagain nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute andstood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn redcarpet.

On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With awhirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes,she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.

Where she stopped the sign read: Mme. Sofronie. Hair Goods ofAll Kinds. One flight up Della ran, and collected herself,panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked theSofronie.

Will you buy my hair? asked Della.

I buy hair, said Madame. Take yer hat off and lets have asight at the looks of it.

Down rippled the brown cascade.

Twenty dollars, said Madame, lifting the mass with a practisedhand.

Give it to me quick, said Della.

Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget thehashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jimspresent.

She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no oneelse. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she hadturned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simpleand chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substancealone and not by meretricious ornamentationas all good thingsshould do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw itshe knew that it must be Jims. It was like him. Quietness andvaluethe description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they tookfrom her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With thatchain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time inany company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it onthe sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in placeof a chain.

When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little toprudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted thegas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity addedto love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friendsa mammothtask.

Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lyingcurls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. Shelooked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, andcritically.

If Jim doesnt kill me, she said to herself, before he takesa second look at me, hell say I look like a Coney Island chorusgirl. But what could I dooh! what could I do with a dollar andeighty-seven cents?

At 7 oclock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on theback of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.

Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand andsat on the corner of the table near the door that he alwaysentered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on thefirst flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had ahabit of saying a little silent prayer about the simplest everydaythings, and now she whispered: Please God, make him think I amstill pretty.

The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thinand very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-twoand to beburdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was withoutgloves.

Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at thescent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was anexpression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her.It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, norany of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simplystared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on hisface.