"Papa did it," said Dimple, "it is just like him; let's see what is inside. No, we'll guess. I say chocolates."
"I say burnt almonds: no, marshmallows," said Florence, giving her package a little squeeze. "Marshmallows and chocolates," exclaimed Florence, as she untied the little pink string and peeped in.
"So are mine," said Dimple. "I don't think we had better eat them all to-night, do you? Suppose we count them and take out some for to-morrow. One, two, three, twelve chocolates, and sixteen marshmallows. How many have you?"
"Thirteen chocolates and fifteen marshmallows," announced Florence.
"Well, let's eat six of them, and put the rest away."
So they were carefully counted out, and the packages retied.
"Now we will undress and sit here in our nightgowns, till we've eaten our candy," said Florence.
"Dear me," said Dimple, as the last one disappeared, "I wish we had said seven of them."
"Suppose we do say seven."
"Well, suppose we do," and the packages were again untied and again put up. They had hardly finished when Mrs. Dallas came in with a telegram in her hand.