Online reading of the book The Gift of the Magi. O'Henry: Gift of the Magi Read Abridged Gift of the Magi

It appeared quite a long time ago. Initially, it is associated with the biblical story of the Magi who brought incense as a gift to the newly born Jesus. Seeing a star appearing in the sky, they realized that the savior of mankind had appeared in the world, and they came to worship him.

What a person can sacrifice in order to bring true joy to a loved one is discussed in the story of O. Henry "Gifts of the Magi", a summary of which is given below.

Exposure. Getting to know the characters

Already from the first sentences of the work it becomes clear how hard it is for the married couple Dillingham Jung. They rent an apartment for which they have to pay $8 every week. “Silent poverty” can be seen in the whole setting. does not work. And the slot in the mailbox is so narrow that there is no way a letter could be put in there. And the sign on the door with the name of the owner, which appeared when he earned $ 30, now seemed tarnished. Since the family's income dropped by ten dollars, the couple had to save on everything. But each evening upon returning home, Mr. James was invariably awaited by the joyful voice of his wife and "tender hugs."

Della

The summary of the story "Gifts of the Magi" should be continued with a description of the mistress of the house. On Christmas Eve, she dejectedly counted the money she had saved up over several months, saving wherever she could. She remembered scenes of humiliating bargaining with a grocer, a butcher, a greengrocer for every cent. But the expenses were still very high, so in the end they managed to collect only a dollar and eighty-seven cents. They were to buy a gift for her husband, whom she loved very much.

First, Della threw herself on the couch and burst into tears. However, something had to be done. She went to the window, then suddenly went to the dressing table standing in the wall. Her eyes sparkled and her face turned pale.

The only wealth of the heroes of the story "Gifts of the Magi"

The young woman, going to the mirror, freed her curls from the hairpins ... They scattered over her shoulders and covered her entire figure below the knees. They shone and shimmered, resembling a chestnut waterfall. But Della immediately began to collect them. At that moment, two or three tears rolled down from her eyes. The decision was ripe instantly - after all, she could not leave her dear James without a gift. Moreover, his magnificent watch, inherited from his grandfather and father, needed a chain. It will replace the old leather strap. Then the beloved will be able to proudly take out his watch to see the time.

twenty dollars for a gift

Della quickly dressed and rushed out into the street - this is how the plot of the story "Gifts of the Magi" develops, a summary of which is offered to the reader. She ran up to the second floor of the building, where Madame Sophronie was stationed, buying up her hair. A few minutes - and Della received twenty dollars and went shopping in search of a gift. And after another couple of hours, she hurried home with the remaining eighty-seven cents and the purchased platinum watch chain.

The return of the husband

First of all, Della curled her hair - she hoped that James would not be very upset when he saw her with a new hairstyle, and even more so would not stop loving her. She made coffee, prepared a frying pan for cutlets. Then, clutching the chain in her hand, she crouched closer to the door and waited.

Entered Mr. Dillingham Jung, seeing his wife, froze in an incomprehensible stupor ... Something like this continues O. Henry "Gifts of the Magi". The summary of the story does not allow describing the scene that arose at that moment. One thing is important - James still could not believe that his Della no longer had her luxurious hair.

Gift exchange

Pretty soon his behavior will become clear to the reader. James took out a roll of paper and handed it to his wife. Della unfolded it - and combs appeared before her eyes. The very ones that she had long dreamed of: tortoiseshell, with pebbles around the edges. They matched the color of her hair so well. Involuntarily shed tears and moans of despair help to understand the condition of the woman. And this episode can be called the culmination of the story "Gifts of the Magi". A summary of the conversation that followed between the spouses is as follows. Della tried to convince her husband that her hair would grow back very soon. But she also bought him a magnificent gift. She opened her hand, and the precious metal sparkled on it. But James, seeing the chain, lay down on the couch and smiled. He sold his watch to buy combs. "We'll have to hide our presents for now... they're too good for us," was his reply.

The final

In the final part of the work, O. Henry recalls the biblical story and gives it a very brief summary. The gifts of the Magi, called wise, could always be exchanged if they turned out to be unsuitable. The difference between the story told is that Delly and James were much more generous. These two, without a moment's hesitation, sacrificed the most precious thing in their lives for their loved one. And affectionately calling his heroes “stupid kids from an eight-dollar apartment,” the author notes that they are the wisest.

This is the story of the great love of two ordinary people, described in the story of O. Henry "The Gift of the Magi", a summary of which you have read.

Gifts of the Magi

One dollar eighty seven cents. That was it. Of these, sixty cents are in one cent coins. For each of these coins, one had to bargain with a grocer, a greengrocer, a butcher, so that even the ears burned with the silent disapproval that such frugality aroused. Della counted three times. One dollar eighty seven cents. And tomorrow is Christmas.

The only thing that could be done here was to slam on the old couch and cry. That's exactly what Della did. Where does the philosophical conclusion come from that life consists of tears, sighs and smiles, and sighs predominate.

While the mistress of the house goes through all these stages, let's look at the house itself. Furnished apartment for eight dollars a week. The atmosphere is not so much blatant poverty, but rather eloquently silent poverty. Below, on the front door, a letter-box, through which no letter could squeeze, and an electric bell-button, from which no mortal could make a sound. To this was added a card bearing the inscription: "Mr. James Dillingham Young." "Dillingham" was unfolded to its full length during a recent period of prosperity, when the owner of said name received thirty dollars a week. Now, with that income reduced to twenty dollars, the letters in the word "Dillingham" faded, as if seriously wondering if it could be reduced to a modest and unassuming "D"? But when Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and went upstairs to his apartment, he was invariably greeted with the cry: "Jim!" and the tender embrace of Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you under the name of Della. And this is really, really cute.

Della stopped crying and brushed her puff over her cheeks. She now stood at the window and looked despondently at the gray cat walking along the gray fence along the gray yard. Tomorrow is Christmas, and she only has one dollar and eighty-seven cents for a present for Jim! For many months she gained literally every cent, and that's all she achieved. Twenty dollars a week won't get you far. The expenses turned out to be more than she expected. This is always the case with spending. Just a dollar and eighty-seven cents for Jim's present! Her Jim! How many happy hours she spent thinking about what to give him for Christmas. Something very special, rare, precious, something just a little worthy of the high honor of belonging to Jim.

In the wall between the windows stood a dressing table. Have you ever looked into the dressing table of an eight-dollar furnished apartment? A very thin and very mobile person can, by observing the successive change of reflections in his narrow doors, form a fairly accurate idea of ​​\u200b\u200bhis own appearance. Della, who was of a frail build, managed to master this art.

She suddenly jumped away from the window and rushed to the mirror. Her eyes sparkled, but the color drained from her face in twenty seconds. With a quick movement, she pulled out the hairpins and loosened her hair.

I must tell you that the James couple. Dillingham Young had two treasures that were their pride. One is Jim's gold watch, which belonged to his father and grandfather, the other is Della's hair. If the Queen of Sheba lived in the house opposite, Della, after washing her hair, would certainly dry her loose hair at the window - especially in order to make all the outfits and jewelry of Her Majesty fade. If King Solomon had served in the same house as a porter and kept all his wealth in the cellar, Jim, passing by; every time he would take his watch out of his pocket - especially in order to see how he tears his beard out of envy.

And then Della's beautiful hair fell apart, shining and shimmering like the jets of a chestnut waterfall. They descended below the knees and wrapped almost her entire figure in a cloak. But she immediately, nervous and in a hurry, began to pick them up again. Then, as if hesitating, she stood motionless for a minute, and two or three tears fell on the shabby red carpet.

An old brown jacket on her shoulders, an old brown hat on her head - and, tossing her skirts, flashing with wet sparkles in her eyes, she was already rushing down to the street.

The sign at which she stopped read: "M-me Sophronie. All kinds of hair products," Della ran up to the second floor and stopped, with difficulty catching her breath.

Will you buy my hair? she asked madam.

I buy hair, - answered madam. - Take off your hat, we need to look at the goods.

The chestnut waterfall flowed again.

Twenty dollars,” said madam, habitually weighing the thick mass on her hand.

Let's hurry, - said Della.

The next two hours flew by on pink wings - I apologize for the hackneyed metaphor. Della was shopping around looking for a present for Jim.

Finally, she found. No doubt that was created for Jim, and only for him. There was nothing like it in other stores, and she turned everything upside down in them. It was a platinum pocket watch chain, simple and strict design, captivating with its true qualities, and not ostentatious brilliance, as all good things should be. She, perhaps, could even be recognized as worthy of a watch. As soon as Della saw her, she knew that the chain must belong to Jim, She was the same as Jim himself. Modesty and dignity - these qualities distinguished both. Twenty-one dollars had to be paid to the cashier, and Della hurried home with eighty-seven cents in her pocket. With such a chain, Jim in any society will not be ashamed to ask what time it is. Gorgeous as his watch was, he often glanced at it furtively, because it hung on a wretched leather strap.

At home, Della's excitement subsided and gave way to forethought and calculation. She took out her curling iron, lit the gas, and set about repairing the damage caused by generosity combined with love. And this is always the hardest work, my friends, gigantic work.

In less than forty minutes, her head was covered with cool little curls that made her surprisingly like a boy who had run away from lessons. She looked at herself in the mirror with a long, attentive and critical look.

"Well," she said to herself, "if Jim didn't kill me as soon as he looked, he'd think I looked like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what was I to do, oh, what was I to do, since I only had a dollar and eighty-seven cents!"

At seven o'clock the coffee was brewed, the red-hot frying pan stood on the gas stove, waiting for lamb cutlets.

Jim was never late. Della clutched the platinum chain in her hand and sat on the edge of the table near the front door. Soon she heard his footsteps down the stairs and turned pale for a moment. She had a habit of turning to God with short prayers about all sorts of worldly trifles, and she whispered hastily:

Lord, make it so that he does not dislike me.

The door opened and Jim entered and closed it behind him. He had a thin, worried face. It's not easy being burdened with a family at twenty-two! He needed a new coat for a long time, and his hands were freezing without gloves.

Jim stood motionless at the door, like a quail smelling a setter. His eyes rested on Della with an expression she could not understand, and she became Terrified. It was neither anger, nor surprise, nor reproach, nor horror - none of the feelings that one might expect. He simply looked at her, not taking his eyes off his face, his strange expression did not change.

Della jumped off the table and rushed to him.

Jim, honey, she cried, don't look at me like that. I cut my hair and sold it because I wouldn't mind if I didn't have anything to get you for Christmas. They will grow back. You're not angry, are you? I couldn't help it. My hair grows very fast. Well, wish me a Merry Christmas, Jim, and let's enjoy the holiday. If you knew what a gift I have prepared for you, what a wonderful, wonderful gift!

Did you cut your hair? Jim asked with tension, as if, despite the increased brain activity, he still could not grasp this fact.

Yes, she cut her hair and sold it, - said Della. "But you'll still love me, won't you?" I'm still the same, albeit with short hair.

Jim looked around the room in bewilderment.

So, your braids are gone, then? he asked with a senseless insistence.

Don't look, you won't find them," said Della. - I'm telling you: I sold them - cut them off and sold them. Today is Christmas Eve, Jim. Be nice to me, because I did it for you. Maybe the hairs on my head can be counted,” she continued, and her gentle voice suddenly sounded serious, “but no one, no one could measure my love for you! Fry cutlets, Jim?

And Jim came out of his daze. He pulled his Della into his arms. Let's be modest and take a few seconds to consider some foreign object. Which is more - eight dollars a week or a million a year? A mathematician or a sage will give you the wrong answer. The magi brought precious gifts, but there was not one among them. However, these vague hints will be explained further.

Jim took a bundle from his coat pocket and tossed it on the table.

Don't get me wrong, Dell, he said. - No hairstyle and haircut can make me stop loving my girl. But unfold this bundle, and then you will understand why I was a little taken aback at the first minute.

White nimble fingers tore at the twine and paper. There was a cry of delight, immediately - alas! - purely feminine, replaced by a stream of tears and groans, so that it was necessary to immediately apply all the sedatives that were at the disposal of the owner of the house.

For there were combs on the table, that same set of combs, one back and two side, which Della had long admired reverently in one Broadway window. Lovely combs, real tortoiseshell, with glittering pebbles set into the edges, and just the color of her brown hair. They were expensive... Della knew this, and her heart was languishing and languishing for a long time from an unrealizable desire to possess them. And now they belonged to her, but there are no longer beautiful braids that would adorn their desired brilliance.

Nevertheless, she pressed the combs to her chest, and when at last she found the strength to raise her head and smile through her tears, she said:

My hair grows really fast, Jim!

Then she suddenly jumped up like a scalded kitten and exclaimed:

Oh my god!

After all, Jim had not yet seen her wonderful gift. She hurriedly handed him the chain in her open palm. The matte precious metal seemed to play in the rays of her stormy and sincere joy.

Isn't it lovely, Jim? I ran all over the city until I found this. Now you can watch at least a hundred times a day what time it is. Give me a watch. I want to see what it will look like all together.

But Jim, instead of obeying, lay down on the couch, put both hands under his head and smiled.

Dell," he said, "we'll have to hide our presents for now, let them lie down for a while. They are too good for us now. I sold the watch to buy you combs. And now, perhaps, it's time to fry the cutlets.

The Magi, those who brought gifts to the baby in the manger, were, as you know, wise, surprisingly wise people. They then started the fashion to make Christmas gifts. And since they were wise, their gifts were wise, perhaps even with a stipulated right of exchange in case of unsuitability. And here I was telling you an unremarkable story about two stupid children from an eight-dollar apartment who, in the most unwise way, sacrificed their greatest treasures for each other. But let it be said for the edification of the wise of our day, that of all the givers these two were the wisest. Of all those who offer and receive gifts, only those like them are truly wise. Anywhere and everywhere. They are the wolves.

On the eve of Christmas, Della counts the money she has three times: one dollar eighty-seven cents, sixty of which are collected at one cent and bargained with food sellers (grocer, greengrocer, butcher). The girl gets upset, sits down on an old couch and starts to cry.

The author shows the scene of the story - a furnished apartment for eight dollars. From the inscription on the door card, the reader recognizes the name of the tenant of the premises: "Mr. James Dillingham Young." Once the latter received thirty dollars a week. Now his income has been reduced to twenty dollars, but this does not sadden him, because every day he comes home, where he is greeted by the gentle embrace of his wife, Della.

Having finished crying, the girl cleans herself up, looks out the window and thinks about what is so special she can give her Jim? Suddenly a thought strikes her. Della rushes to the mirror and undoes her hair, which is one of the two main treasures in their house, along with Jim's gold watch, which belonged to his father and grandfather. The girl looks at herself for a while, then picks up her hair, freezes for a minute and two or three tears fall from her eyes.

Della quickly runs down. For twenty dollars she sells her hair to Madame Sophronie. The girl spends two hours looking for a present for Jim. It becomes a platinum chain for pocket watches.

At home, Della curls the rest of her hair for forty minutes and cooks dinner. Entering Jim strangely looks at his wife. Della rushes to him and explains what happened to her hair, asks not to worry, promises that they will grow back quickly. Jim snaps out of his daze and hugs the girl. He takes out a bundle from his coat pocket, in which Della finds real tortoiseshell combs - her old dream, exhibited in one of the Broadway windows.

Della is overjoyed, then cries, then consoles herself and Jim with the fact that her hair grows very quickly. She hands the chain to her husband and asks him to give her a watch to see how it will look together. Instead of complying with his wife's request, Jim lies down on the couch, smiles and says that the gifts they received so far are too good for them: he sold his watch to buy Delle tortoiseshell combs.

• "The Gift of the Magi", an artistic analysis of the story by O. Henry
• "The Last Leaf", an artistic analysis of the story by O. Henry
• "The Last Leaf", a summary of the story of O. Henry
• O. Henry, short biography
• "Green Door", analysis of the short story by O. Henry

Gifts of the Magi

Gifts of the Magi

One dollar eighty seven cents. That was it. Of these, sixty cents are in one cent coins. For each of these coins, one had to bargain with a grocer, a greengrocer, a butcher, so that even the ears burned with the silent disapproval that such frugality aroused. Della counted three times. One dollar eighty seven cents. And tomorrow is Christmas.

The only thing that could be done here was to slam on the old couch and cry. That's exactly what Della did. Where does the philosophical conclusion come from that life consists of tears, sighs and smiles, and sighs predominate.

While the mistress of the house goes through all these stages, let's look at the house itself. Furnished apartment for eight dollars a week. The atmosphere is not so much blatant poverty, but rather eloquently silent poverty. Below, on the front door, a letter-box, through which no letter could squeeze, and an electric bell-button, from which no mortal could make a sound. To this was added a card bearing the inscription: "Mr. James Dillingham Young." "Dillingham" was unfolded to its full length during a recent period of prosperity, when the owner of said name received thirty dollars a week. Now, with that income reduced to twenty dollars, the letters in the word "Dillingham" faded, as if seriously wondering if it could be reduced to a modest and unassuming "D"? But when Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and went upstairs to his apartment, he was invariably greeted with the cry: "Jim!" and the tender embrace of Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you under the name of Della. And this is really, really cute.

Della stopped crying and brushed her puff over her cheeks. She now stood at the window and looked despondently at the gray cat walking along the gray fence along the gray yard. Tomorrow is Christmas, and she only has one dollar and eighty-seven cents for a present for Jim! For many months she gained literally every cent, and that's all she achieved. Twenty dollars a week won't get you far. The expenses turned out to be more than she expected. This is always the case with spending. Just a dollar and eighty-seven cents for Jim's present! Her Jim! How many happy hours she spent thinking about what to give him for Christmas. Something very special, rare, precious, something just a little worthy of the high honor of belonging to Jim.

In the wall between the windows stood a dressing table. Have you ever looked into the dressing table of an eight-dollar furnished apartment? A very thin and very mobile person can, by observing the successive change of reflections in his narrow doors, form a fairly accurate idea of ​​\u200b\u200bhis own appearance. Della, who was of a frail build, managed to master this art.

She suddenly jumped away from the window and rushed to the mirror. Her eyes sparkled, but the color drained from her face in twenty seconds. With a quick movement, she pulled out the hairpins and loosened her hair.

I must tell you that the James couple. Dillingham Young had two treasures that were their pride. One is Jim's gold watch, which belonged to his father and grandfather, the other is Della's hair. If the Queen of Sheba lived in the house opposite, Della, after washing her hair, would certainly dry her loose hair at the window - especially in order to make all the outfits and jewelry of Her Majesty fade. If King Solomon had served in the same house as a porter and kept all his wealth in the cellar, Jim, passing by; every time he would take his watch out of his pocket - especially in order to see how he tears his beard out of envy.

And then Della's beautiful hair fell apart, shining and shimmering like the jets of a chestnut waterfall. They descended below the knees and wrapped almost her entire figure in a cloak. But she immediately, nervous and in a hurry, began to pick them up again. Then, as if hesitating, she stood motionless for a minute, and two or three tears fell on the shabby red carpet.

An old brown jacket on her shoulders, an old brown hat on her head - and, tossing her skirts, flashing with wet sparkles in her eyes, she was already rushing down to the street.

The sign at which she stopped read: "M-me Sophronie. All kinds of hair products," Della ran up to the second floor and stopped, with difficulty catching her breath.

One dollar eighty seven cents. That was it. Of these, sixty cents are in one cent coins. For each of these coins, one had to bargain with a grocer, a greengrocer, a butcher, so that even the ears burned with the silent disapproval that such frugality aroused. Della counted three times. One dollar eighty seven cents. And tomorrow is Christmas.

The only thing that could be done here was to slam on the old couch and cry. That's exactly what Della did. Where does the philosophical conclusion come from that life consists of tears, sighs and smiles, and sighs predominate.

While the mistress of the house goes through all these stages, let's look at the house itself. Furnished apartment for eight dollars a week. The atmosphere is not so much blatant poverty, but rather eloquently silent poverty. Below, on the front door, a letter-box, through which no letter could squeeze, and an electric bell-button, from which no mortal could make a sound. To this was added a card bearing the inscription: "Mr. James Dillingham Young." "Dillingham" came into full swing during a recent period of prosperity, when the owner of the said name received thirty dollars a week. Now, with that income reduced to twenty dollars, the letters in the word "Dillingham" faded, as if seriously wondering if it could be reduced to a modest and unassuming "D"? But when Mr. James Dillingham Jung came home and went upstairs to his apartment, he was invariably greeted with the exclamation of "Jim!" and the tender embrace of Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you under the name of Della. And this is really, really cute.

Della stopped crying and brushed her puff over her cheeks. She now stood at the window and looked despondently at the gray cat walking along the gray fence along the gray yard. Tomorrow is Christmas, and she only has one dollar and eighty-seven cents for a present for Jim! For many months she gained literally every cent, and that's all she achieved. Twenty dollars a week won't get you far. The expenses turned out to be more than she expected. This is always the case with spending. Just a dollar and eighty-seven cents for Jim's present! Her Jim! How many joyful hours she spent thinking about what to give him for Christmas. Something very special, rare, precious, something just a little worthy of the high honor of belonging to Jim.

In the wall between the windows stood a dressing table. Have you ever looked into the dressing table of an eight-dollar furnished apartment? A very thin and very mobile person can, by observing the successive change of reflections in his narrow doors, form a fairly accurate idea of ​​\u200b\u200bhis own appearance. Della, who was of a frail build, managed to master this art.

She suddenly jumped away from the window and rushed to the mirror. Her eyes sparkled, but the color drained from her face in twenty seconds. With a quick movement, she pulled out the hairpins and loosened her hair.

I must tell you that the James Dillingham Jungs had two treasures that were their pride. One is Jim's gold watch that belonged to his father and grandfather, the other is Della's hair. If the Queen of Sheba lived in the house opposite, Della, after washing her hair, would certainly dry her loose hair at the window - especially in order to make all the outfits and jewelry of Her Majesty fade. If King Solomon had served in the same house as a porter and kept all his wealth in the cellar, Jim, passing by; every time he would take his watch out of his pocket - especially in order to see how he tears his beard out of envy.

And then Della's beautiful hair fell apart, shining and shimmering like the jets of a chestnut waterfall. They descended below the knees and wrapped almost her entire figure in a cloak. But she immediately, nervous and in a hurry, began to pick them up again. Then, as if hesitating, she stood motionless for a minute, and two or three tears fell on the shabby red carpet.

An old brown jacket on her shoulders, an old brown hat on her head - and, tossing her skirts, flashing with wet sequins in her eyes, she was already rushing down to the street.

The sign at which she stopped read: “M-me Sophronie. All kinds of hair products. Della ran up to the second floor and stopped, panting for breath.

Will you buy my hair? she asked madam.

I buy hair, - answered madam. - Take off your hat, we need to look at the goods.

The chestnut waterfall flowed again.

Twenty dollars,” said madam, habitually weighing the thick mass on her hand.

Let's hurry, - said Della.

The next two hours flew by on pink wings - I apologize for the hackneyed metaphor. Della was shopping around looking for a present for Jim.

Finally, she found. No doubt that was created for Jim, and only for him. There was nothing like it in other stores, and she turned everything upside down in them. It was a platinum pocket watch chain, simple and strict design, captivating with its true qualities, and not ostentatious brilliance, as all good things should be. She, perhaps, could even be recognized as worthy of a watch. As soon as Della saw it, she knew that the chain must belong to Jim. She was just like Jim himself. Modesty and dignity - these qualities distinguished both. Twenty-one dollars had to be paid to the cashier, and Della hurried home with eighty-seven cents in her pocket. With such a chain, Jim in any society will not be ashamed to ask what time it is. Gorgeous as his watch was, he often glanced at it furtively, because it hung on a wretched leather strap.

At home, Della's excitement subsided and gave way to forethought and calculation. She took out her curling iron, lit the gas, and set about repairing the damage caused by generosity combined with love. And this is always the hardest work, my friends, gigantic work.

In less than forty minutes, her head was covered with cool little curls that made her surprisingly like a boy who had run away from lessons. She looked at herself in the mirror with a long, attentive and critical look.

Well, she told herself, if Jim doesn't kill me as soon as he looks at me, he'll think I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what was I to do, oh, what was I to do, since I had only a dollar and eighty-seven cents!”

At seven o'clock the coffee was brewed, and the red-hot frying pan stood on the gas stove, waiting for lamb cutlets.

Jim was never late. Della clutched the platinum chain in her hand and sat on the edge of the table near the front door. Soon she heard his footsteps down the stairs and turned pale for a moment. She had a habit of turning to God with short prayers about all sorts of worldly trifles, and she whispered hastily:

Lord, make it so that he does not dislike me.

The door opened and Jim walked in and closed it behind him. He had a thin, worried face. It's not easy being burdened with a family at twenty-two! He needed a new coat for a long time, and his hands were freezing without gloves.

Jim stood motionless at the door, like a quail smelling a setter. His eyes rested on Della with an expression she could not understand, and she became Terrified. It was neither anger, nor surprise, nor reproach, nor horror - none of the feelings that one might expect. He just stared at her without taking his eyes off her, and his face did not change its strange expression.

Della jumped off the table and rushed to him.

Jim, honey, she cried, don't look at me like that. I cut my hair and sold it because I wouldn't mind if I didn't have anything to give you for Christmas. They will grow back. You're not angry, are you? I couldn't help it. My hair grows very fast. Well, wish me a Merry Christmas, Jim, and let's enjoy the holiday. If you knew what a gift I have prepared for you, what a wonderful, wonderful gift!

Did you cut your hair? Jim asked with tension, as if, despite the increased brain activity, he still could not grasp this fact.

Yes, she cut her hair and sold it, - said Della. "But you'll still love me, won't you?" I'm still the same, albeit with short hair.

Jim looked around the room in bewilderment.

So, your braids are gone, then? he asked with a senseless insistence.

Don't look, you won't find them," said Della. - I'm telling you: I sold them - cut them off and sold them. Today is Christmas Eve, Jim. Be nice to me, because I did it for you. Maybe the hairs on my head can be counted,” she continued, and her gentle voice suddenly sounded serious, “but no one, no one could measure my love for you! Fry cutlets, Jim?

And Jim came out of his daze. He pulled his Della into his arms. Let's be modest and take a few seconds to consider some foreign object. Which is more - eight dollars a week or a million a year? A mathematician or a sage will give you the wrong answer. The magi brought precious gifts, but there was not one among them. However, these vague hints will be explained further.

Jim took a bundle from his coat pocket and tossed it on the table.

Don't get me wrong, Dell, he said. - No hairstyle and haircut can make me stop loving my girl. But unfold this bundle, and then you will understand why I was a little taken aback at the first minute.

White nimble fingers tore at the twine and paper. There was a cry of delight, immediately - alas! - purely feminine, replaced by a stream of tears and groans, so that it was necessary to immediately apply all the sedatives that were at the disposal of the owner of the house.

For there were combs on the table, the same set of combs - one back and two side ones - which Della had long admired reverently in one Broadway window. Lovely combs, real tortoiseshell, with glittering pebbles set into the edges, and just the color of her brown hair. They were expensive - Della knew this - and her heart long languished and languished from an unrealizable desire to possess them. And now they belonged to her, but there are no longer beautiful braids that would adorn their desired brilliance.

Nevertheless, she pressed the combs to her chest, and when at last she found the strength to raise her head and smile through her tears, she said:

My hair grows really fast, Jim!

Then she suddenly jumped up like a scalded kitten and exclaimed:

Oh my god!

After all, Jim had not yet seen her wonderful gift. She hurriedly handed him the chain in her open palm. The matte precious metal seemed to play in the rays of her stormy and sincere joy.

Isn't it lovely, Jim? I ran all over the city until I found this. Now you can watch at least a hundred times a day what time it is. Give me a watch. I want to see what it will look like all together.

But Jim, instead of obeying, lay down on the couch, put both hands under his head and smiled.

Dell,” he said, “we'll have to hide our gifts for now, let them lie down a little. They are too good for us now. I sold the watch to buy you combs. And now, perhaps, it's time to fry the cutlets.

The Magi, those who brought gifts to the baby in the manger, were, as you know, wise, surprisingly wise people. It was they who started the fashion to make Christmas gifts. And since they were wise, their gifts were wise, perhaps even with a stipulated right of exchange in case of unsuitability. And here I was telling you an unremarkable story about two stupid children from an eight-dollar apartment who, in the most unwise way, sacrificed their greatest treasures for each other. But let it be said for the edification of the wise of our day, that of all the givers these two were the wisest. Of all those who offer and receive gifts, only those like them are truly wise. Anywhere and everywhere. They are the wolves.

The story was suggested by our reader Tatyana.