When the Old Lady got home she took from her top bureau drawer an inlaid box of sandalwood . It held a little , slim , limp volume , wrapped in tissue paper -- the Old Lady 's most treasured possession . On the fly-leaf was written , `` To Margaret , with the author 's love . '' The Old Lady turned the yellow leaves with trembling fingers and , through eyes brimming with tears , read the verses , although she had known them all by heart for years . She meant to give the book to Sylvia for a birthday present -- one of the most precious gifts ever given , if the value of gifts is gauged by the measure of self-sacrifice involved . In that little book was immortal love -- old laughter -- old tears -- old beauty which had bloomed like a rose years ago , holding still its sweetness like old rose leaves . She removed the telltale fly-leaf ; and late on the night before Sylvia 's birthday , the Old Lady crept , under cover of the darkness , through byways and across fields , as if bent on some nefarious expedition , to the little Spencervale store where the post-office was kept . She slipped the thin parcel through the slit in the door , and then stole home again , feeling a strange sense of loss and loneliness . It was as if she had given away the last link between herself and her youth . But she did not regret it . It would give Sylvia pleasure , and that had come to be the overmastering passion of the Old Lady 's heart . The next night the light in Sylvia 's room burned very late , and the Old Lady watched it triumphantly , knowing the meaning of it . Sylvia was reading her father 's poems , and the Old Lady in her darkness read them too , murmuring the lines over and over to herself . After all , giving away the book had not mattered so very much . She had the soul of it still -- and the fly-leaf with the name , in Leslie 's writing , by which nobody ever called her now . The Old Lady was sitting on the Marshall sofa the next Sewing Circle afternoon when Sylvia Gray came and sat down beside her . The Old Lady 's hands trembled a little , and one side of a handkerchief , which was afterwards given as a Christmas present to a little olive-skinned coolie in Trinidad , was not quite so exquisitely done as the other three sides . Sylvia at first talked of the Circle , and Mrs. Marshall 's dahlias , and the Old Lady was in the seventh heaven of delight , though she took care not to show it , and was even a little more stately and finely mannered than usual . When she asked Sylvia how she liked living in Spencervale , Sylvia said , `` Very much . Everybody is so kind to me .
Besides '' -- Sylvia lowered her voice so that nobody but the Old XXXXX could hear it -- `` I have a fairy godmother here who does the most beautiful and wonderful things for me . ''
Gray Lady Leslie Margaret Sylvia afternoon byways dahlias first overmastering