The Gift of the Magi

TheGift of the Magi

ANNOUNCER:Now, the Special English program, AMERICAN STORIES.

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STORYTELLER:One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it in thesmallest pieces of money - pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time bynegotiating with the men at the market who sold vegetables and meat.Negotiating until one's face burned with the silent knowledge of being poor.Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the nextday would be Christmas.

Therewas clearly nothing to do but sit down and cry. So Della cried. Which led tothe thought that life is made up of little cries and smiles, with more littlecries than smiles.

Dellafinished her crying and dried her face. She stood by the window and looked outunhappily at a gray cat walking along a gray fence in a gray back yard.Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only one dollar and eighty-sevencents to buy her husband Jim a gift. She had been saving every penny she couldfor months, with this result.

Jimearned twenty dollars a week, which does not go far. Expenses had been greaterthan she had expected. They always are. Many a happy hour she had spentplanning to buy something nice for him. Something fine and rare -- somethingclose to being worthy of the honor of belonging to Jim.

Therewas a tall glass mirror between the windows of the room.  Suddenly Dellaturned from the window and stood before the glass mirror and looked at herself.Her eyes were shining, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds.Quickly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.

Now,Mister and Missus James Dillingham Young had two possessions which they valued.One was Jim's gold time piece, the watch that had been his father's and hisgrandfather's. The other was Della's hair.

Had theQueen of Sheba lived in their building, Della would have let her hair hang outthe window to dry just to reduce the value of the queen’s jewels.

So nowDella's beautiful hair fell about her, shining like a brown waterfall. Itreached below her knees and made itself almost like a covering for her. Andthen quickly she put it up again. She stood still while a few tears fell on thefloor.

She puton her coat and her old brown hat. With a quick motion and brightness still inher eyes, she danced out the door and down the street.

Whereshe stopped the sign read: "Madame Sofronie. Hair Goods of AllKinds." Della ran up the steps to the shop, out of breath.

"Willyou buy my hair?" asked Della.

"Ibuy hair," said Madame. "Take your hat off and let us have a look atit.”

Downcame the beautiful brown waterfall of hair.

"Twentydollars," said Madame, lifting the hair with an experienced hand.

"Giveit to me quick," said Della.

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Thenext two hours went by as if they had wings. Della looked in all the stores tochoose a gift for Jim.

Shefound it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else.  It wasa chain -- simple round rings of silver. It was perfect for Jim’s goldwatch.  As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be for him. It waslike him. Quiet and with great value. She gave the shopkeeper twenty-onedollars and she hurried home with the eighty-seven cents that was left. 

WhenDella arrived home she began to repair what was left of her hair.  Thehair had been ruined by her love and her desire to give a special gift.Repairing the damage was a very big job.

Withinforty minutes her head was covered with tiny round curls of hair that made herlook wonderfully like a schoolboy. She looked at herself in the glass mirrorlong and carefully.

"IfJim does not kill me before he takes a second look at me," she said toherself, "he'll say I look like a song girl. But what could I do--oh! whatcould I do with a dollar and eighty-seven cents?"

Atseven o'clock that night the coffee was made and the pan on the back of thestove was hot and ready to cook the meat.

Jim wasnever late coming home from work.  Della held the silver chain in her handand sat near the door. Then she heard his step and she turned white for just aminute. She had a way of saying a little silent prayer about the simplesteveryday things, and now she whispered: "Please God, make him think I amstill pretty."

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Thedoor opened and Jim stepped in. He looked thin and very serious. Poor man, hewas only twenty-two and he had to care for a wife.  He needed a new coatand gloves to keep his hands warm. 

Jimstopped inside the door, as immovable as a dog smelling a bird. His eyes werefixed upon Della. There was an expression in them that she could not read, andit frightened her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor fear, nor any of thefeelings that she had been prepared for. He simply looked at her with a strangeexpression on his face. Della went to him.

"Jim,my love," she cried, "do not look at me that way. I had my hair cutand sold because I could not have lived through Christmas without giving you agift. My hair will grow out again. I just had to do it.  My hair growsvery fast.  Say ‘Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let us be happy. You do notknow what a nice-- what a beautiful, nice gift I have for you."

"Youhave cut off your hair?" asked Jim, slowly, as if he had not accepted theinformation even after his mind worked very hard.

"Cutit off and sold it," said Della. "Do you not like me just as well? Iam the same person without my hair, right?

Jimlooked about the room as if he were looking for something.

"Yousay your hair is gone?" he asked. 

"Youneed not look for it," said Della. "It is sold, I tell you--sold andgone, too. It is Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it was cut for you.Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on with sudden serioussweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put themeat on, Jim?"

Jimseemed to awaken quickly and put his arms around Della. Then he took a packagefrom his coat and threw it on the table.

"Donot make any mistake about me, Dell," he said. "I do not think thereis any haircut that could make me like my girl any less. But if you will openthat package you may see why you had me frightened at first."

Whitefingers quickly tore at the string and paper. There was a scream of joy; andthen, alas! a change to tears and cries, requiring the man of the house to useall his skill to calm his wife.

Forthere were the combs -- the special set of objects to hold her hair that Dellahad wanted ever since she saw them in a shop window. Beautiful combs, made ofshells, with jewels at the edge --just the color to wear in the beautiful hairthat was no longer hers. They cost a lot of money, she knew, and her heart hadwanted them without ever hoping to have them. And now, the beautiful combs werehers, but the hair that should have touched them was gone.

But sheheld the combs to herself, and soon she was able to look up with a smile andsay, "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"

ThenDella jumped up like a little burned cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"

Jim hadnot yet seen his beautiful gift. She happily held it out to him in her openhands. The silver chain seemed so bright.

"Isn'tit wonderful, Jim? I looked all over town to find it. You will have to look atthe time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how itlooks on it."

Insteadof obeying, Jim fell on the couch and put his hands under the back of his headand smiled.

"Dell,"said he, "let us put our Christmas gifts away and keep them a while. Theyare too nice to use just right now. I sold my gold watch to get the money tobuy the set of combs for your hair. And now, why not put the meat on."

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Themagi were wise men--wonderfully wise men--who brought gifts to the Baby Jesus.They invented the art of giving Christmas gifts. Being wise, their gifts werewise ones. And here I have told you the story of two young people who mostunwisely gave for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in alast word to the wise of these days, let it be said that of all who give gifts,these two were the wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.

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ANNOUNCER: You have heard the American story “The Gift of the Magi.”  This story waswritten by O. Henry and adapted into Special English by Karen Leggett. Yourstoryteller was Shep O’Neal.  The producer was Lawan Davis.

Listenagain next week at this time for another American story in  Special English.I’m Shirley Griffith.