"Now I'll undo the first, and you can have the second. I'll take
this--"

She unwrapped the bit of newspaper and disclosed a silvery ornament
for a Christmas tree: a frail thing like a silver plum, with deep rosy
indentations on each side.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Isn't it LOVELY!" Her fingers cautiously
held the long bubble of silver and glowing rose, cleaving to it with
a curious, irritating possession. The man's eyes moved away from her.
The lesser child was fumbling with one of the little packets.

"Oh!"--a wail went up from Millicent. "You've taken one!--You didn't
wait." Then her voice changed to a motherly admonition, and she began
to interfere. "This is the way to do it, look! Let me help you."

But Marjory drew back with resentment.

"Don't, Millicent!--Don't!" came the childish cry. But Millicent's
fingers itched.

At length Marjory had got out her treasure--a little silvery bell
with a glass top hanging inside. The bell was made of frail glassy
substance, light as air.

"Oh, the bell!" rang out Millicent's clanging voice. "The bell! It's
my bell. My bell! It's mine! Don't break it, Marjory. Don't break
it, will you?"

Marjory was shaking the bell against her ear. But it was dumb, it made