Her eyes were shining and under the table Aron held her hand. The wine dulled Cal’s nervousness and he was not afraid about his present.

When Adam had finished his plum pudding he said, “I guess we never have had such a good Thanksgiving.”

Cal reached in his jacket pocket, took out the red-ribboned package, and pushed it over in front of his father.

“What’s this?” Adam asked.

“It’s a present.”

Adam was pleased. “Not even Christmas and we have presents. I wonder what it can be!”

“A handkerchief,” said Abra.

Adam slipped off the grubby bow and unfolded the tissue paper. He stared down at the money.

Abra said, “What is it?” and stood up to look. Aron leaned forward. Lee, in the doorway, tried to keep the look of worry from his face. He darted a glance at Cal and saw the light of joy and triumph in his eyes.

Very slowly Adam moved his fingers and fanned the gold certificates. His voice seemed to come from far away. “What is it? What—” He stopped.

Cal swallowed. “It’s—I made it—to give to you—to make up for losing the lettuce.”

Adam raised his head slowly. “You made it? How?”

“Mr. Hamilton—we made it—on beans.” He hurried on, “We bought futures at five cents and when the price jumped—It’s for you, fifteen thousand dollars. It’s for you.”

Adam touched the new bills so that their edges came together, folded the tissue over them and turned the ends up. He looked helplessly at Lee. Cal caught a feeling—a feeling of calamity, of destruction in the air, and a weight of sickness overwhelmed him. He heard his father say, “You’ll have to give it back.”

Almost as remotely his own voice said, “Give it back? Give it back to who?”

“To the people you got it from.”

“The British Purchasing Agency? They can’t take it back. They’re paying twelve and a half cents for beans all over the country.”

“Then give it to the farmers you robbed.”

“Robbed?” Cal cried. “Why, we paid them two cents a pound over the market. We didn’t rob them.” Cal felt suspended in space, and time seemed very slow.

His father took a long time to answer. There seemed to be long spaces between his words. “I send boys out,” he said. “I sign my name and they go out. And some will die and some will lie helpless without arms and legs. Not one will come back untorn. Son, do you think I could take a profit on that?”

“I did it for you,”. Cal said. “I wanted you to have the money to make up your loss.”

“I don’t want the money, Cal. And the lettuce—I don’t think I did that for a profit. It was a kind of game to see if I could get the lettuce there, and I lost. I don’t want the money.”

Cal looked straight ahead. He could feel the eyes of Lee and Aron and Abra crawling on his cheeks. He kept his eyes on his father’s lips.