Comic Geekspeak Presents

The Gift of the Magi by O. Henry.

$1.87.

That was all.

And 60 cents of it was in pennies.

Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher

until one's cheeks burned

with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. 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 howl. So Della did it, which instigates the moral reflection that life is made

up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating. While the mistress of the home

is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second,

take a look at the home, a furnished flat at $8 per week.

It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.

In the vestibule below was a letterbox into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring.

Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name Mr. James Dillingham Young.

The Dillingham had been flung to the breeze during a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid

$30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they were thinking seriously of

contracting to a modest and unassuming initial D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home

and reached his flat above, he was called Jim, and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above, he was called Jim, and greatly

hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della, which is all

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