RANSVESTIA

Meanwhile, Henry Wilson was compounding his shock for the other two boxes held, not the slippers and shirts that his wife and family had bought, but some whimsies of lingerie on the other hand and on the other, a blouse-and-skirt set of raw silk and crepe. They were exquisite, but unnoticed in the excitement.

"They must have given me the wrong boxes," said Mrs. Wilson. "I left your things to be wrapped and they must have gotten them mixed up. Well, I'll just take these—these things-back to the store tomorrow. Lucky, I still have the sales slip."

"Where did you get them?" asked Henry.

"Benson's Department Store."

"I'll be in that neighborhood tomorrow. I'll take them back myself ---and give them a good piece of my mind, while I'm at it. Maybe I'll cancel our charge account.'

"Why? We use it all the time..." protested Mrs. Wilson.

"Oh, I really won't, but I'll tell them I'm going to-keeps 'em on their toes that way.”

"Alright, dear. I'm sorry this happened. Happy Father's Day, any- way." She paused thoughtfully, sniffed, and said, "I wonder what sort of girl gets gifts like these on Father's Day?"

The next moring, Henry strode purposefully into the department store and planted both feet firmly in front of the exchange window. There was a mournful looking young man facing him from the other side.

"See here!" shouted Henry before the young man had finished his "may I help you?" speech. "See here, you people have made a mis- take."

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry. What seems to be the problem?”

"Last week, my wife bought several things here," he consulted a list momentarily; ... a robe, one pair of slippers and three shirts, to be exact. She had them wrapped and brought them home. Well, to make a long story short, the boxes were the wrong ones!"