the gift of magi part two

With that chain on his watch, Jim could look at his watch and

learn the time anywhere he might be. Though the watch was so fine,

it had never had a fine chain. He sometimes took it out and looked at

it only when no one could see him do it.

When Della arrived home, her mind quieted a little. She began to

think more reasonably. She started to try to cover the sad marks of what

she had done. Love and large-hearted giving, when added together, can

leave deep marks. It is never easy to cover these marks, dear friends—

never easy.

Within forty minutes her head looked a little better. With her

short hair, she looked wonderfully like a schoolboy. She stood at the

looking-glass for a long time.

“If Jim doesn’t kill me,” she said to herself, “before he looks at me

a second time, he’ll say I look like a girl who sings and dances for money.

But what could I do—oh! What could I do with a dollar and eighty-

seven cents?”

At seven, Jim’s dinner was ready for him.

Jim was never late. Della held the watch chain in her hand and

sat near the door where he always entered. Then she heard his step in

the hall and her face lost color for a moment. She often said little prayers

quietly, about simple everyday things. And now she said: “Please God,

make him think I’m still pretty.”

The door opened and Jim stepped in. He looked very thin and he

was not smiling. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two—and with a fam-

ily to take care of! He needed a new coat and he had nothing to cover

his cold hands.

Jim stopped inside the door. He was as quiet as a hunting dog when

it is near a bird. His eyes looked strangely at Della, and there was an

expression in them that she could not understand. It filled her with fear.

It was not anger, nor surprise, nor anything she had been ready for. He

simply looked at her with that strange expression on his face.

Della went to him.

“Jim, dear,” she cried, “don’t look at me like that. I had my hair cut

off and sold it. I couldn’t live through Christmas without giving you aift. My hair will grow again. You won’t care, will you? My hair grows

very fast. It’s Christmas, Jim. Let’s be happy. You don’t know what a

nice—what a beautiful nice gift I got for you.”

“You’ve cut off your hair?” asked Jim slowly. He seemed to labor

to understand what had happened. He seemed not to feel sure he

knew.

“Cut it off and sold it,” said Della. “Don’t you like me now? I’m

me, Jim. I’m the same without my hair.”

Jim looked around the room.

“You say your hair is gone?” he said.

“You don’t have to look for it,” said Della. “It’s sold, I tell you—

sold and gone, too. It’s the night before Christmas, boy. Be good to me,

because I sold it for you. Maybe the hairs of my head could be counted,”

she said, “but no one could ever count my love for you. Shall we eat

dinner, Jim?”

Jim put his arms around his Della. For ten seconds let us look in

another direction. Eight dollars a week or a million dollars a year—

how different are they? Someone may give you an answer, but it will

be wrong. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among

them. My meaning will be explained soon.

From inside the coat, Jim took something tied in paper. He threw

it upon the table.

“I want you to understand me, Dell,” he said. “Nothing like a

haircut could make me love you any less. But if you’ll open that, you

may know what I felt when I came in.”

White fingers pulled off the paper. And then a cry of joy; and

then a change to tears.

For there lay The Combs—the combs that Della had seen in a

shop window and loved for a long time. Beautiful combs, with jewels,

perfect for her beautiful hair. She had known they cost too much for

her to buy them. She had looked at them without the least hope of

owning them. And now they were hers, but her hair was gone.

But she held them to her heart, and at last was able to look up

and say: “My hair grows so fast, Jim!”

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