“I’m not doing it for myself, Uncle,” replied the child.
“Not for yourself, eh? Is it for papa, then?”
“No, Sir.”
“For your brother Guy, perhaps?”
“No, Sir. Not for Guy,” and looking slyly at her uncle, she added. “I guess that you are not Yankee enough to guess whom it is for.”
“For your brother Hugh, maybe?”
“You must guess again, Uncle.”
“Well, maybe it is for your hero, Richard Duncan.”
“O Uncle! Do you think I would embroider a handkerchief for a young gentleman!” and Jessie pursed up her lips as though she was going to be very angry.
“Don’t be angry with your old uncle, my little puss,” said Mr. Morris with an air of mock penitence, “I had an idea that young ladies did such things for young gentlemen sometimes. But who is it for? I give it up.”