"That's what I thought."
"Then what on earth did you call for?"
"I didn't. Who said I did?"
I gave a sigh of relief. Later in the evening, when Eliza took a card, notched a bit out of each side, and began winding silk on it, I thought it wiser to say nothing. It is better sometimes to pretend not to see things.
ELIZA'S MOTHER
I generally send Eliza to spend a day with her mother early in December, and try to cheer her up a little. I daresay the old lady is very lonely, and appreciates the kindly thought. The return ticket is four-and-two, and Eliza generally buys a few flowers to take with her. That does not leave much change out of five shillings when the day is over, but I don't grudge the money. Eliza's mother generally tries to find out, without precisely asking, what we should like for a Christmas present. Eliza does not actually tell her, or even hint it—she would not care to do anything of that sort. But she manages, in a tactful sort of way, to let her know.
For instance, the year before last Eliza's mother happened to say, "I wonder if you know what I am going to give you this Christmas."
Eliza said, "I can see in your eye, mother, and you sha'n't do it. It's much too expensive. If other people can do without silver salt-cellars, I suppose we can."