Chicken Soup for the Little Souls (7 page)

Later that night, Mom said, “Saturday is Miss Maggie's birthday. Why don't you and I bake her a cake and bring it over there?”

“Oh, Mom, that's perfect!” I said. “Miss Maggie was sad today, and that's just the thing to cheer her up!”

The next day after school, I found an even better thing. I was walking to Miss Maggie's, just like always, when I saw a doll in the window of Mulligan's Collectibles. She looked really old and she had on a white lacy dress. Her hair was blond, not brown, and there was no pink satin ribbon, but I thought Miss Maggie might like her anyway.

I went in and asked Mr. Mulligan, “The doll in the window—do her eyes open and close?”

Mr. Mulligan said, “Yes, they do. But that's not a doll for little girls like you. That's an antique. Grown-ups collect them.”

“Oh, it's not for me. I want to buy that doll for my friend, Miss Maggie,” I explained.

“That's an awfully expensive present. Maybe Miss Maggie would like one of these embroidered hankies instead.” Mr. Mulligan held up a dumb white handkerchief with flowers on it.

“How much for the doll?” I asked him in my most grown-up voice.

“Well, she's not in the best shape. I suppose I could let you have her for thirty-five dollars.”

My eyes bugged out about a mile. Where would I ever get thirty-five dollars?

That night, I tried Mom. “May I have thirty-five dollars to buy Miss Maggie a birthday present?” I asked, real casual.

Mom laughed. “It's sweet that you want to buy a gift for your friend. But I'm sure the birthday cake we're making will be enough.”

I begged and pleaded, but the best I could get out of Mom was: “If you really want to give Miss Maggie a gift that badly, we'll go shopping on Saturday morning. But we can't afford to spend thirty-five dollars. I'm sorry, darling, but we just can't.”

I knew no other gift would do, so I emptied my elephant bank and counted my money. I had exactly eight dollars and forty-nine cents.

It was already Thursday. There was no time to save up any more. I put the eight dollars and forty-nine cents in a sock and folded it up. I had a plan, but I wasn't sure it would work.

On Friday after school, I went to see Mr. Mulligan.

“I really need that doll, Mr. Mulligan,” I said. “I have eight dollars and forty-nine cents to pay you right now, and I will help out in your store every weekend until I have paid the rest of the money, which will probably be forever.”

Mr. Mulligan scratched his head. “After you asked about that doll yesterday, I went to take another look at her. And it's the darndest thing—she's more damaged than I thought. One of my workers must have laid her head on some wet wood stain. The back of her hair is just ruined. I don't know who's going to pay much for her now. I reckon if you need her that badly, I can consider eight dollars and forty-nine cents a fair price.”

“You've got a deal!” I shouted.

When Mr. Mulligan took down the doll, and showed me her “ruined” hair, I got the best idea ever!

The time passed slowly at Miss Maggie's that afternoon. When she asked me what was in the bag, I told her it was a secret and she mustn't look inside.

“Aren't you mysterious today?” she teased.