From the Young Woman’s Journal, December 1917 –

“Who Gives Himself”

By Ivy Williams Stone

With a sigh of satisfaction, Marcella Gatlin wrapped and addressed her last Christmas packages. She then bundled up Junior Julius preparatory to her last trip of Christmas shopping, and the mailing of her out-of-town packages. Hers were not expensive gifts, being mostly useful articles fashioned by her clever fingers, and were all for the immediate members of the two families. She and Julius had agreed their modest circumstances did not allow them to make the “gift-giving-circle” any larger.

As Marcella put on her wraps before her mirror, a little pucker of disapproval gathered between her eyes. Her coat was shabby! Not only did it fail to conform to the prevailing style, but it showed signs of real wear. “Never mind. Junior Julius,” said Marcella bravely, turning to the impatient baby, “we will make it do us through cold weather.”

As she hurried along on her errands, Marcella thought constantly of what she would replace the coat with when the warmer weather came. Surely she could have a suit this spring. A real suit! Not an outgoing style, purchased at a bargain sale, but a spring model, fresh from the shops and bearing the trade mark of an exclusive maker. In fancy Marcella saw herself and smiled at the picture. This new suit should have a touch of color — perhaps it could be made entirely of one of the bright spring shades. She had not had a wrap since their marriage, and Marcella smiled tenderly at the memory of those honeymoon days, when she had been justly proud of her appearance in her conservative “hobble suit.” But this was no time for fancies. So many little errands still to do, and the clerks all so busy and rushed. And tucked away in a corner of her bag was the price of Julius’ present. What a surprise it would be to him — and well it might be, too, for it represented many little privations and careful buying during the entire summer. Marcella’s handy needle had added a little, as she occasionally did sewing for her neighbors, and she had parsimoniously hoarded every penny until the little pile had grown heavy, and had been changed into a twenty dollar bill.

Pushing the happy Junior Julius before her, Marcella made the rounds of her errands. In the jeweler’s shop where she went for her one big present, she met her older sister Agnes, who radiated prosperity and plumpness.

“Why, what are you doing here?” asked Agnes, genuinely surprised.

“Buying a present for Julius,” answered Marcella proudly.

“Better get yourself a new wrap instead,” said Agnes, with a critical eye.

“O, this coat will do nicely until warmer weather,” quoted Marcella, “and then I’ll have a nice spring suit.”

“Well, you won’t get it before you need it,” answered Agnes bluntly. Marcella winced. Agnes was so outspoken.

“Come with me,” said Marcella tactfully, “and take a look at Julius’ present. I selected it some time ago and had it laid away until I could pay for it.”

“No,” answered Agnes, “I’ve still many things to do before closing time. I’ll see it Christmas. You’ll be up to Mother’s of course?”

“Well I guess yes,” smiled Marcella, and her sister was soon lost in the hurrying crowds of good natured shoppers.

As Marcella waited in the shop, she thought of what Agnes had said. Perhaps Agnes was right – ought she to buy herself clothes instead? But once the beautiful gift lay on the counter, all thought of self disappeared before the vision of Julius when he should see those field glasses. They were a splendid pair, and he had wanted some all his life. Cheerfully she handed over her hard-gathered gold and turned homeward.

As she tucked the precious gift in an unconspicuous corner, Marcella wondered what Julius would give her. She did hope it would be books! He knew how she loved them, but there had been so few dollars for anything save necessities that their library was still pitifully small.

During their three years of married life, the Gatlins had economized wherever possible, in order that the payments on the little home might be met promptly. But the nest was all their own now, and as she busied herself with the evening meal, Marcella thought with peaceful quiet of the deed locked securely in the safety vault. That was the best kind of a Christmas present for anyone— still she wondered what sort of a personal gift Julius would have for her. If he would only get her a set of her favorite writers!

The early dark soon brought Julius and as they sat at the cosy table he suddenly asked,

“Say, Marcella, don’t you ever lose your good nature?”

“Why Julius, what a question!”

“Weil now honest, girlie, did you ever lose it?”

“Almost, this afternoon,” answered Marcella thinking of Agnes’ truthful thrust.

“What over ?” persisted Julius.

“O,” laughed Marcella, “Christmas is coming and little boys must not ask questions.”

“Well,” continued Julius, “Brother Emmett and I made a bet about you this afternoon. Things at the office were sort of slow, and we got to talking about our families, and he thinks he’s got a peach of a wife. And even if we did marry sisters, I know you’ve got more good nature in you than Agnes ever will have, and I told him so. too. And he offered to bet with me about it, so of course I couldn’t refuse, after what I’d said. I know I’ll win, for I never saw Agnes but she lost her temper over something.”

A faint blush rose to Marcella’s cheek at his words of praise, still she felt constrained to look reproving.

“Julius, I don t approve of your betting. You know how I feel over such—”

“The stake we made won’t break either of us, little Miss Prim,” interrupted Julius, smilingly, “besides its only between brothers.”

“What did you bet?” asked Marcella, feminine curiosity holding the upper hand.

“‘Christmas is coming’,” quoted Julius, “and little girls shouldn’t ask questions. And by the way, what do you want for that day, anyhow?”

“A pair of sixteen button gloves. an ivory hand mirror, a hundred engraved calling cards, one of those new handbags, a set of O. Henry’s works, a silk umbrella, money for a new suit, and — ”

“‘Nough said,” cried Julius in mock alarm, “no need to mention more. Plenty to choose from right there,” and they both laughed; but Marcella noticed he never asked her about it again.

Christmas eve found the procrastinating Julius among the late shoppers. His brother Emmett was with him, and when they finally separated for their respective homes, each carried, among numerous other bundles, a long, flat box. Marcella thought she heard Julius coming — she knew his walk. But it stopped suddenly and she felt conscious of a creeping noise around the house toward the kitchen. What a strange night for burglars, she thought, and laughed aloud for self assurance. Almost immediately after, however, Julius’ positive step came up the walk and he pounded against the door with his foot.

“Open the door,” he called cheerfully, “Santa Claus is loaded.”

“Julius Gatlin,” said Marcella, surveying his numerous bundles, “have you any money left?”

“Just one single penny,” laughed Julius. “Emmett even paid my fare home. These are all for my son, from his dutiful father.”

“O Julius,” said Marcella, after the toys had been enticingly arranged, “did you go around to the back of the house before you came in?”

“On Christmas eve you go to bed
And sleep, and sleep and sleep:
And if you hear a funny noise
You never even peep,”

sang Julius, and the curious Marcella could get no further satisfaction.

Junior Julius had not reached that delightful age when Christmas enthusiasm gets you up before daylight , so in the morning, Marcella and Julius dressed him before taking him out to Santa Claus’ gifts. For a moment he walked about the little pile of toys with an awed expression, and then, with a child’s characteristic pronoun he cried:

“Mine, mine,” and sat upon the choo-choo car and cried “tooh-tooh” at the sight of the bright red cars.

Then came the personal gifts. “This package last, please,” and Marcella laid the home gift aside. There were the usual handkerchiefs, ties, and shirts from the women of his family, and a handsomely engraved pair of cuff buttons from Emmett and Agnes, who could afford things. And then came the real gift. Marcella felt many times repaid for her sacrifices when she saw the look of surprised joy in his face.

“O you dear girlie,” he cried, “where did you get the money? Nothing could have pleased me more.” There was a queer little mist over his eyes, as he kissed her again and again. “I know,” he said. “You’ve saved up little bits of cash and gone without things yourself !”

While Marcella was unwrapping her bundles, Julius went out to the kitchen porch and returned with the long thin box. “Here’s that noise you heard last night. Miss Pandora,” he said laughingly, “and here’s your Santa Claus.”

Marcella was just examining a neatly made kitchen apron which had come from her sister Louise. Poor Louise! She had so many babies and so little to do with. Out of the pocket of the apron dropped a Christmas card and the modest gift assumed a new charm in the light of the verse Louise had chosen:

“Who gives himself with his alms, feeds three,
Himself, his hungry neighbor, and Me.”

“O look, Julius,” cried Marcella, and both their faces sobered over the verse. ”Louise has made a greater sacrifice than Emmett and Agnes did!”

“Well, I know, but aren’t you going to look at what your old sweetheart gives you ?” sard Julius, extending the box. Marcella dropped Louise’s card on the couch and looked up. Instinctively she knew what it was. Clothes! Bless his dear heart, she did hope he had taken Ag^es with him to pass judgment. With shaky fingers she untied the package and lifted out a suit! No bright spring shade here, but a sensible seal-brown, serviceable suit. Well and thoroughly tailored, but O the style. The narrow skirt, the tight cut jacket, a replica of her antiquated honey- moon serge. Marcella’s thoughts crowded quick and fast. How fortunate her back was turned, so Julius could not see the mist which persistently swam before her eyes, and she was grateful when he broke the silence which the lump in her throat insisted upon.

“I hope you’ll like it,” Julius said frankly. “Emmett and I were at a toss last night to know what to buy you girls. He got one for Agnes, too, but I guess hers will fit her better, because they only had large sizes left. It was a sale, you know,” he continued with a queer twitch about his mouth, “and as I know you are anxious to save, too, I thought it would be just the thing. I know your nimble fingers can cut it down to fit you.”

”Cut it up;’ flashed into Marcella’s brain — a forty-eight, and she only thirty-six ! She laid down the jacket and reached for the skirt. Beneath it lay Louise’s forgotten card and through her blinking eyes Marcella could see:

“Who gives himself—”

Down on the floor Junior Julius had forsaken the well built choo-choo car and was crooning, in a motherly tone, to a small rag doll. He, certainly, had chosen his favored gift with no regard for value, and so should she!

“Dear, dear Daddy,” cried Marcella, making a supreme effort, “I love you so, and many thanks for your thoughtfulness. The suit is of beautiful material and so well made. I am sure I can alter it.”

“Glad you like it,” mumbled Julius, drawing the fair head down upon his shoulder. “Some day, we will be as well-off as Emmett and Agnes, and can then afford the luxury of new suits when they first come out.”

And so the subject of the suit was tacitly dropped until they reached Marcella’s old home for the annual Christmas gathering. There the pleasure of reunion, the Christmas atmosphere, the unchecked happiness of the children brought a peace to Marcella’s troubled mind until Emmett cried out gleefully:

“Say Marcella, what did you get for Christmas?”

“A box of handkerchiefs,” answered Marcella, flushing slightly, “and those lovely silk hose from you and Agnes, and Louise sent me —

“I don’t mean that kind of things,” interrupted Emmett, “I mean, what did Julius give you ?”

“A nice suit,” answered Marcella promptly. “A beautiful brown broadcloth.” She had not told a single -untruth, and her people, particularly the tantalizing Emmett, should have no chance to jeer at Julius, who had given his alms.

“Why didn’t you wear it?” continued the merciless Emmett.

“It’s a little too large,” faltered Marcella, “and I have to alter it.”

“Yes, I guess it is,” broke in Agnes, who had been listening intently. “Why not tell the whole truth, Marcella. In addition to what you claim for it, it has narrow, skintight sleeves, a funny cutaway jacket and the skirt is just thirty inches around the bottom. I know, for Emmett gave me one just like it; and imagine me,” here Agnes gave a ludicrous demonstration of her appearance in a hobble skirt! “Why I wouldn’t wear them when they were in style even, let alone now!”

“What are you going to do with your suit, Agnes?” asked Julius quietly.

“‘Going to!” repeated the irate Agnes, “I’ve already done. That creation had not been my personal property half an hour before it was re-wrapped and sent to the Widow Cristos. With her brood of half grown daughters, she can use it for one of them. And if Marcella takes my advice, she’ll send hers there, too!”

Everybody laughed, even Emmett joining heartily in. Who could help laughing at Agnes, when she wanted to be funny.

While dinner was being served, Agnes and Marcella chanced to be alone in the kitchen. “Did you really give your present from Emmett away?” asked Marcella.

“I certainly did,” declared Agnes.

“Weren’t you afraid of hurting his feelings?”

“Indeed not,” asserted Agnes, “and besides if I did, he deserved to have them hurt ! The idea of a man thinking he could satisfy a woman’s taste in a suit. I guess Emmett has learned his lesson, and Julius, too. I hope so, anyway.”

Marcella could only laugh, rather faint heartedly. Agnes always managed to make things look differently, less serious somehow. But then, they were well enough off to give things away, and not feel the loss, and Marcella felt as if those dollars could not be spared in her case.

When the party broke up, Emmett shook hands with Marcella almost gravely and said :

“You have shown exceeding good nature and tolerance today, Marcella, and it’s my treat!”

What did he mean, Marcella wondered — surely this was a day of mystery. But Junior Julius was crying sleepily for his own bed and in the bustle of departure she forgot all about Agnes, Emmett, and suits.

But once home the disquieting suit still lay spread out upon the couch. Hastily Marcella packed it up and pushed the box between the hall tree and the wall. Out of sight, but not out of mind.

In the morning Julius seemed anxious to get off for work.

“Don’t bother to come out to the porch,” he urged, “it’s cold and I’m in a great hurry.” So Marcella kissed him good bye as she prepared a “perfectly balanced” breakfast for Junior Julius, and then hurried about her morning tasks, intent upon taking the suit down for her mother’s inspection, to see if it could possibly be altered.

Junior Julius was making a great noise with his new toys and Marcella did not hear the front door open and close ever so softly. Hurriedly she finished her kitchen work and made her toilet. There was some satisfaction in new gloves, a nicely tatted handkerchief and silk hose— even if your coat was old.

She put Junior Julius into his cart and opened the door into the hall. Instinctively she reached down for the suit — but it was not there! Surprised, Marcella raised the blinds for more light. The box was certainly gone, but in the farther corner stood another box — substantial and wooden, and upon it lay a note addressed to her.

The impatient Junior Julius twisted and squirmed and pointed to the outer door, but his unheeding mother read and smiled, and smiled and cried a little, and peeped into the box and then read again:

“Merry Christmas to my cheerful little aim receiver! Have taken the suit to Widow Cristos for her second oldest daughter. Emmett lost, and paid the $10.00 for the two suits. He knows, now, that your good nature surpasses Agnes’, for you cheerfully accepted alms, knowing that they came from me.

“Christmas love from

“Senior Julius.”

Marcella peeped into the box again, still unbelieving. There the completeness, the newness, the unexplored joy of an entire set of “Harvard Classics” lay before her.