Occasionally, when some special parcel was unearthed, one of
the boys diverted her attention laboriously, since it was near
Christmas-time, which is ever a season of mysteries. The parcel stowed
away hastily in a cupboard, Norah was permitted to gaze once more,
unrestricted.
"What's that, Jim?" she asked, catching a glimpse of silver in the
recesses of a suitcase.
"Oh, nothing."
"I believe it's your cup," said his sister excitedly. "Do make him show
me, Wally!"
"The mug it is!" said Wally, diving in under Jim's nose, and snatching
the article in question. "Don't be an ass, Jimmy--d'you expect to keep
it always in your boot-bag?"
"Very nice place for it," Jim was understood to mutter.
"Ripping--but you'll want it for your boots. Catch, Norah!"
The big silver cup flew across the room, and was deftly fielded by the
lady on the end of the sofa.
"Oh, isn't it a beauty!" she said delightedly. "Jimmy, I'm so proud to
know you!"
"You ought to have seen him going up to get it," Wally said. "Lovely
sight--he blushed so prettily!"
"Blush be hanged!" said the victim.
"Don't be ashamed, my child; it's a very nice thing to be able to
blush," Wally grinned. "No one would ever dream you could, either, so
it's a happy surprise as well!"
"There's not a blush about you, that's one thing," said Jim, from the
depths of his big box.
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