As he came into the room, a queer, gentle, melodious
voice, which seemed to come from the organ, said:
"'I am Music. I hold the key to enchantment. It is I who will sum up for
you all the other gifts and make them mine--and yours. Take my kiss
within your soul.'
"And that was the Eighth Gift," Felicia paused.
"But the ninth?" Kirk whispered.
"I'm trying to think of it."
Kirk clapped his hands suddenly.
"_I_ know what it was!" he cried. "Don't you? Oh, _don't_ you, Phil?"
"No, I don't. What was it?"
"Shall I finish?" Kirk asked.
"Please do."
"And the person said, 'Thank you,' to the organ," Kirk proceeded
gleefully; "and then in the door what should stand but a beautiful lady.
And _she_ said: 'I'm your sister Felicia--Happiness.' And _that_ was the
most best gift of _all_!"
"Naughty person!" said Felicia. "After all those really nice gifts!
But--but if you will have it that, she said, 'Take my kiss upon your
heart of hearts.' Oh, Kirk--darling--I love you!"
Flowers twined Kirk's chair at the breakfast table--golden honeysuckle,
a sweet, second blooming, and clematis from the Maestro's hedge. Kirk
hung above it, touching, admiring, breathing the sweetness of the
honeysuckle; aware, also, of many others of the Nine Gifts already
perceptible about the room. But his fingers encountered, as he reached
for his spoon, a number of more substantial presents stacked beside his
plate. There was the green jersey which Felicia had been knitting at
privately for some time.
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