Little Mrs. Somers one day found herself the unexpected possessor of fifteen dollars. It seemed to her a very large amount of money, and the way in which it stuffed and bulged her worn old porte-monnaie gave her a feeling of importance such as she had not enjoyed for years.

The question of investment was one that occupied her greatly. For a day or two she walked about apparently in a dreamy state, but really absorbed in speculation and calculation. She did not wish to act hastily, to do anything she might afterward regret. But it was during the still hours of the night when she lay awake revolving plans in her mind that she seemed to see her way clearly toward a proper and judicious use of the money.

A little pair of shoes for Janie. She would buy them high and stout so that they would last well. Then two pairs of stockings for the boys, and another gown for Mag—perhaps a cheap pattern of calico. She would get caps for all the children out of the remainder. She could make them herself.

The idea of her little ones looking fresh and dainty for once in their lives made her heart beat with a light, quickening sense of satisfaction. Then she would buy something—just one thing—for herself. Not a kid-glove or a trimming or a ribbon, but a pair of silk stockings. Yes, a pair of silk stockings.

There was a quick, eager light in her eyes, and she softly touched her hand to her cheek, as if to feel the texture of the imagined luxury. The very thought of the smooth, glistening silk gave her a strange pleasure. It was only when she sat up suddenly, pressing her lips together, that she realized how absurd she was being. Still, the vision lingered, and a faint smile played about her mouth.