The Gift of the Magi One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all she had. And sixty-seven cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one, two, and three at a time by negotiating with the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until ones cheeks burned with embarrassment. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas. There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and sob. So Della did sob. She was beginning to believe that life was made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, but mostly sniffles. Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week does not go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him, something fine and rare and sterling. There was a mirror between the windows of the room. Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. Her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length. Now, there were two possessions in which the newlyweds both took a mighty pride. One was Jims gold watch that had been his fathers and his grandfathers. The other was Dellas long beautiful hair. So now Dellas beautiful hair fell about her, rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her waist and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she pulled it up again nervously and quickly. On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street. Where she stopped the sign read: Madame Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds. One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Will you buy my hair? asked Della. I buy hair, said Madame. Take yer hat off and lets have a sight at the looks of it. Down rippled the brown cascade. Twenty dollars, said Madame, lifting the mass with a practiced hand. Give it to me quick, said Della. The next two hours went by quickly. Della was frantically searching the stores for Jims present. She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum watch chain, simple in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jims. It was like him. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the remaining eighty-seven cents. With that chain on his watch Jim would be proud in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it with embarrassment on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain. When Della reached home her excitement gave way a little to common sense and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work fixing her hair. Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically. Jim will say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what else could I do? Oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty-seven cents? At seven oclock, the coffee was made and the frying pan was sitting on the back of the stove. It was hot and ready to cook the pork chops that Della had bought the night before. Jim was never late. Della doubled the watch chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. She waited impatiently for him to come home. Then Della heard his step on the stairs way down on the first flight. Quickly, she stood up and fixed her hair one last time. Then she turned white for just a moment. Della had a habit of saying little silent prayers about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered, Please God, make him think I am still pretty. Make him love me just the same. The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two and already burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves. Hello, dear, Jim said. Then he looked up at Della. Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della as she stood in front of the mirror. Della tried to smile, until she looked into his eyes. There was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face. Della finally moved and went for him. Jim, darling, she cried, please dont look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I could not have lived through Christmas without giving you a real present. And I certainly didnt have enough money saved. Della held Jims hands and looked into his eyes. It will grow out again, she said. You wont mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Please say Merry Christmas! Jim, and lets be happy. You dont know what a beautiful, nice gift I have for you. Youve cut off your hair? asked Jim. Della held his hand tighter still, warming it with her own. Cut it off and sold it, said Della. Dont you like me just as well, anyhow? Im me without my hair. Dont you think so? You say your hair is gone? he said, with an air almost of disbelief. You neednt look for it, said Della. Its sold, I tell you, sold and gone, too. Its Christmas Eve. Be kind to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered, she went on with sudden serious sweetness, but nobody could ever count my love for you. Della waited for Jim to speak then. He took off his coat without speaking and then turned back to Della. Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He grabbed Della in his arms. Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table. Do not make a mistake, Dell, about me, he said. I dont think there is anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me love my girl any less. But if you will unwrap that small package you may see why you had me going a while at first. White, nimble fingers tore at the string and paper. Della let out an ecstatic scream of joy. Then her voice turned to hysterical tears and wails as she examined the contents of the box. For there lay the combs, the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshiped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jeweled rims, just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were very expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the long locks of hair that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone. Jim summoned up all of his comforting powers and said, I can take the combs back and get the money. But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say, My hair grows so fast, Jim! And then Della leaped up and cried, Oh, oh! She ran to the table and opened the box for Jim. Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit. Isnt it a dandy, Jim? Della asked. I hunted all over town to find it. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it. Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled. Dell, said Jim, lets put our Christmas presents away and keep them a while. Theyre too nice to use just yet. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. The moral of the story: The young couple sell their dearest possessions to buy Christmas gifts for one another, and discover that their sacrifice made the gifts unusable. The real gift is the love they share for one another, wherein theyre both willing to sacrifice their most sacred possessions. The Magi were the so-called three wise men from the east who traveled to Bethlehem, following a bright star, to present gifts to the infant Jesus. The Gospel of Matthew (Chapter 2, Verse 11) says: And entering into the house, they found the child with Mary his mother, and falling down they adored him: and opening their treasures, they offered him gifts—gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Gold was given as a expression of love. Frankincense was used as a treatment for illness and as an fragrant additive to incense. Myrrh was also added to incense, as well as perfume, and found additional use as anointment. These offerings, though very valuable, were not as important as the recognition, respect, and love the Magi gave the Christ child. The Christ child, is Gods sacrificial expression of love to man.
Posted on: Wed, 24 Dec 2014 14:19:03 +0000
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