Dorothea nodded. She had to bite her lips to keep from laughing, as the Colonel lifted the lid and peered in.
"Too much water! A great deal too much water!" he said solemnly.
"No, I don't think so indeed. It will all come right," Dorothea assured him with audacious confidence. "O father, never mind the tea. See what Mrs. Kirkpatrick has sent me."
The Colonel did not wish to receive the article in question, but Dorothea put it resolutely in his hands. He found himself dangling helplessly a small blue satin pincushion, with "Happy Christmas" worked in white beads.
"Eh, what? yes. Very pretty," said the Colonel. "Yes, quite smart."
"And three Christmas cards, from my schoolfellows."
"Eh? Yes,—uncommonly pretty. What's the use of them all?" demanded the Colonel, merely because he was at a loss what else to say.
"The use, father! The use of Christmas cards?"
"Well,—yes. What's the use?" persisted the Colonel.
Dorothea stood opposite him, smiling; the light falling full upon her glasses, with the gentle light eyes behind.