After her friends had gone, Marjorie went into the living room to speculate for the hundredth time on the subject of Mary's present. It was a beautiful little neckchain of tiny, square, gold links, similar to one her Captain had given her on her last birthday. Mary had frequently admired it in times past and for months Marjorie had saved a portion from her allowance with which to buy it. She had a theory that a gift to one's dearest friends should entail self-sacrifice on the part of the giver. Mary's changed attitude toward her had not counted. She was still resolved upon giving her the chain. But how was she to do it? And suppose when she offered it Mary were to refuse it?
The entrance of her mother broke in upon her unhappy speculations. "I'm glad you came, Captain," she said. "I've been trying to think how I had best give Mary her present."
"Then don't worry about it any longer," comforted Mrs. Dean. Stepping over to the low chair in which Marjorie sat she passed her arm about her troubled daughter and drew her close. "That is a part of my plan. Wait until Christmas morning and you will know."
"Tell me now," coaxed Marjorie, snuggling comfortably into the hollow of the protecting arm.
"That would be strictly against orders," came the laughing response. "Have patience, Lieutenant."
"All right, I will." Sturdily dismissing her curiosity, Marjorie began a detailed account of the afternoon's labor, which lasted until Mr. Dean came rollicking in and engaged Marjorie in a rough-and-tumble romp that left her flushed and laughing.
Despite her many errands of good will and charity, the next two days dragged interminably. On Christmas Eve Mr. Dean took his family and Mary to the theatre to see a play that had had a long, successful run in New York City the previous season and was now doomed to the road. After the play they stopped at Sargent's for a late supper. Under Mr. Dean's genial influence Mary thawed a trifle and even went so far as to address Marjorie several times, to the latter's utter amazement. This was in reality the beginning of Mrs. Dean's carefully laid plan. Marjorie guessed as much and wondered hopefully as to what might happen next.
Nothing special occurred that evening, however, except that Mary bade her a curt "good night." But Marjorie hugged even that short utterance to her heart and went to sleep in a buoyantly hopeful state of mind.