Miss Terry stooped to poke over the contents of the box with lean, long
fingers. In one corner thrust up a doll's arm; in another, an animal's tail
pointed heavenward. She caught glimpses of glitter and tinsel, wheels and
fragments of unidentifiable toys.

"What rubbish!" she said. "Yes, I'll burn them all. They are good for
nothing else. I suppose some folks would try to give them away, and bore a
lot of people to death. They seem to think they are saving something, that
way. Nonsense! I know better. It is all foolishness, this craze for giving.
Most things are better destroyed as soon as you are done with them. Why,
nobody wants such truck as this. Now, could any child ever have cared for
so silly a thing?" She pulled out a faded jumping-jack, and regarded it
scornfully. "Idiotic! Such toys are demoralizing for children--weaken their
minds. It is a shame to think how every one seems bound to spoil children,
especially at Christmas time. Well, no one can say that I have added to the
shameful waste."

Miss Terry tossed the poor jumping-jack on the fire, and eyed his last
contortions with grim satisfaction.

But as she watched, a quaint idea came to her. She was famous for eccentric
ideas.

"I will try an experiment," she said. "I will prove once for all my point
about the 'Christmas spirit.' I will drop some of these old toys out on the
sidewalk and see what happens. It may be interesting."