his throat and firmly laid hands on a gilt-rimmed mustache cup.
His lips twitched and his eyes winked, but the look in his face
was the look of a soldier-man. No intervention from the Doctor
could shake his determination.

With coaxing insinuation the Doctor said, "We haven't seen all
the things, you know."

Hope kindled in David's eyes.

"Maybe," he said with enthusiasm, "maybe this costs more than
three five centses. Does it?"

"Wouldn't you rather have a drum?" asked the salesman.

No, indeed; David would not have a drum.

"Or a sword?" asked the Doctor.

"No, thanks," the words came with husky politeness.

The cup was the thing for him; it would please Mother. She would
be so glad about the cup!

Here, again, was disappointment. She didn't seem pleased with
it--not nearly so pleased as she should have been. But never
mind, little boy; every generous heart is quick to forget the
unselfish kindness that is in it, and you yourself will not be
slow to forget this foolish sacrifice you have made for love of
one who has made many a sacrifice for you. She has made them,