Selina had painted a view of the Golden Gate upon a polished slice
of redwood that answered the purposes of a paper weight. Marcus
Schouler--after impressing upon Trina that his gift was to HER, and
not to McTeague--had sent a chatelaine watch of German silver; Uncle
Oelbermann's present, however, had been awaited with a good deal of
curiosity. What would he send? He was very rich; in a sense Trina was
his protege. A couple of days before that upon which the wedding was
to take place, two boxes arrived with his card. Trina and McTeague,
assisted by Old Grannis, had opened them. The first was a box of all
sorts of toys.
"But what--what--I don't make it out," McTeague had exclaimed. "Why
should he send us toys? We have no need of toys." Scarlet to her
hair, Trina dropped into a chair and laughed till she cried behind her
handkerchief.
"We've no use of toys," muttered McTeague, looking at her in perplexity.
Old Grannis smiled discreetly, raising a tremulous hand to his chin.
The other box was heavy, bound with withes at the edges, the letters and
stamps burnt in.
"I think--I really think it's champagne," said Old Grannis in a whisper.
So it was. A full case of Monopole.
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