As may be inferred from what I have said, Andy was still working for the Misses Grant.  He had grown accustomed to their ways, and succeeded in giving them perfect satisfaction, and accomplished quite as much work as John, his predecessor, though the latter was a man.

As Christmas approached, Miss Priscilla said one day to her sister: 

“Don’t you think, Sophia, it would be well to give Andrew a Christmas present?”

“Just so,” returned Sophia, approvingly.

“He has been very faithful and obliging all the time he has been with us.”

“Just so.”

“I have been thinking what would be a good thing to give him.”

“A pair of spectacles,” suggested Sophia, rather absent-mindedly.

“Sophia, you are a goose.”

“Just so,” acquiesced her sister, meekly.

“Such a gift would be very inappropriate.”

“Just so.”

“A pair of boots,” was the next suggestion.

“That would be better.  Boots would be very useful, but I think it would be well to give him something that would contribute to his amusement.  Of course, we must consult his taste, and not out own.  We are not boys.”

“Just so,” said Sophia, promptly.  “And he is not a lady,” she added, enlarging upon the idea.

“Of course not.  Now, the question is, what do boys like?”

“Just so,” said Sophia, but this admission did not throw much light upon the character of the present to be bought.

Just then Andy himself helped them to a decision.  He entered, cap in hand, and said: 

“If you can spare me, Miss Grant, I would like to go skating on the pond.”

“Have you a pair of skates, Andrew?”

“No, ma’am,” said Andy; “but one of the boys will lend me a pair.”

“Yes, Andrew; you can go, if you will be home early.”

“Yes, ma’am—­thank you.”

As he went out, Miss Priscilla said: 

“I have it.”

“What?” asked Sophia, alarmed.

“I mean that I have found out what to give to Andrew.”

“What is it?”

“A pair of skates.”

“Just so,” said Sophia.  “He will like them.”

“So I think.  Suppose we go to the store while he is away, and buy him a pair.”

“Won’t he need to try them on?” asked her sister.

“No,” said Priscilla.  “They don’t need to fit as exactly as boots.”

So the two sisters made their way to the village store, and asked to look at their stock of skates.

“Are you going to skate, Miss Priscilla?” asked the shopkeeper, jocosely.

“No; they are for Sophia,” answered Priscilla, who could joke occasionally.

“Oh, Priscilla,” answered the matter-of-fact Sophia, “you didn’t tell me about that.  I am sure I could not skate.  You said they were for Andrew.”

“Sophia, you are a goose.”

“Just so.”

“It was only a joke.”