There was a moment of dismayed silence, then everybody laughed.

Ella was the first to speak. "It's too bad, of course, but never mind.
Mother'll see the joke of it just as we do. You know she never seems to
care what we give her. Old people don't have many wants, I fancy."

Frank stirred suddenly and walked the length of the room. Then he
wheeled about.

"Do you know," he said, a little unsteadily, "I believe that's a
mistake?"

"A mistake? What's a mistake?"

"The notion that old people don't have any--wants. See here. They're
having a party down there--a party, and they must have got it up
themselves. Such being the case, of course they had what they wanted for
entertainment--and they aren't drinking tea or knitting socks. They're
dancing jigs and eating pink peppermints and ice cream! Their eyes are
like stars, and Mother's cheeks are like a girl's; and if you think I'm
going to offer those spry young things a brown neckerchief and a pair of
bed-slippers you're much mistaken--because I'm not!"

"But what--can--we do?" stammered Ella.

"We can buy something else here--to-night--in the village," declared
Frank; "and to-morrow morning we can go and give it to them."

"But--buy what?"