and sweaters and caps, skates and horns and whistles and drums,
home-made pop-corn and candy, oranges--ah! well, sensible gifts in
plenty, and foolish gifts that were wiser than Solomon for they included
a boy's heart as well as his body.

In a lull all eyes turned to Muggs. His pockets were crammed with
pop-corn and candy. One arm was quite as full of toys as he could pack
it--the other had begun the day's conveyance of food from hand to mouth,
but he was regarding a very small, warm suit of clothes and substantial
boots with dangerously quivering lips. Nor could one misinterpret his
disapproval. For a moment the startled Doctor fancied he heard Mike hiss
the astonishing words "Mom Murphy!" but by the time he had wheeled
about, Muggs, with circular eyes of terror, had begun to swell.

"That child," said Annie, "has something on his mind. Don't tell me! I
know it."

The inevitable blare of racket came all too soon. Horns and whistles and
drums united in a deafening blast, and if thanks did not come easily to
the lips of boys, noise did. Nor could Muggs at any time thereafter be
separated from a shoulder drum upon which he had beaten with insane and
single-minded concentration even after the din was past and a hungry
hint of breakfast in the air. Lacking one outlet of expression he had
seized upon another. He drummed his way fiercely upstairs, to dress, and
he drummed his way down to breakfast, a ridiculous self-consciousness in
his small face whenever he glanced at his new suit of clothes. Small as
it was it engulfed him utterly.

"Jim!" said the Doctor suddenly. "You're not limping!"