"I'm rather a judge of these things myself; and of all the other girls I ever saw--" "Never mind about other girls," said Mrs.Blyth.

"Tell me what you mean to give Madonna." ("Two for his heels," cried Mrs.Peckover, turning up a knave with great glee.) "I mean to give her a Bracelet," said Zack.
Valentine looked up quickly from the card table.
("Play, please sir," said Mrs.Peckover; "little Mary's waiting for you.") "Well, Zack," rejoined Mrs.Blyth, "your idea of returning a present only errs on the side of generosity.

I should recommend something less costly.

Don't you know that it's one of Madonna's oddities not to care about jewelry?
She might have bought herself a bracelet long ago, out of her own savings, if trinkets had been things to tempt her." "Wait a bit, Mrs.Blyth," said Zack, "you haven't heard the best of my notion yet: all the pith and marrow of it has got to come.

The bracelet I mean to give her is one that she will prize to the day of her death, or she's not the affectionate, warm-hearted girl I take her for.