Gift of The Magi - Part 4

Della: This is such a beautiful fob chain. This must be the one for Jim. Oh...so quiet,  

                        so valuable, Jim must fall in love with this.

Narrator: It was a platinum fob chain. Very simple, and chaste in design. It value was

                       shown by it substance, not how it looks. So Della went home with 78 cents

after selling her hair for 21 dollars. When Della reached home her gave way a little to prudence and reason.

Della: Now, I have to prepare and wait for Jim to get home.

Narrator: She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing

                       the ravages made by generosity added to love. Within forty minutes her head

was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy.

Della: If Jim doesn’t kill before he takes a second look at me, he’ll say I look like a

Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do, what could I do with a  dollar  

and eighty-seven cents?

Narrator:At 7, everything was ready. The coffee was made. The frying is hot, ready

for the chops to go on it.

Della:            Jim was never late. Why isn’t he home yet?

Narrator: She sat on the corner of the table near the door where Jim always enter.

Then she heard his steps on the stair away down on the first flight

Della: Please, God, make him think I am still pretty.

Narrator:The door open as 22 years old Jim walked in. He looked so thin and very

serious. There was an expression that even Della couldn’t figure out, and it  

terrified her.

Della: Jim, darling, don't look at me that way. I cut my hair and sell it to buy a

Christmas present for you  - you won't mind, will you? My hair grows awfully

fast. Say 'Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a

nice-what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you.

Jim: You’ve cut off your hair?

Della:Cut it off and sold it. Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without

my hair, ain't I?

Jim: You say your hair is gone?

Della: Don’t look for it Jim, I sold it. It’s Christmas, be good to me boy. Maybe the

hairs of my were numbered, but nobody could ever count my love for you.

Shall I put the chops on, Jim?

Jim: Don't make any mistake, Dell? I don't think there's anything in the way of a

haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less.

But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while

at first.

Narrator: There lay The Combs. Beautiful, expensive combs, pure tortoise-shell, with

jewelled rims. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have

adorned the coveted adornments were gone.

Narrator: But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up

with dim eyes and a smile and say:

Della: My hair grows so fast, Jim!

Narrator:But Jim didn’t see what Della bought for him.

Della: Now let’s see your present Jim, I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to

look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to

see how it looks on it.

Jim:Dell, let’s put our Christmas presents away and keep ‘em a while. They’re

too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your

combs. And now suppose you put the chops on.

Narrator: The magi, as you know, were wise men - wonderfully wise men - who brought

gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas

presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing

the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely

related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who

most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house.

But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give

gifts these two were the wisest. Of all who give and receive gifts, such as

they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.