“Oh, Uncle’s taking a cottage!” put in Eva.
“Oh, that big swell cove that was staying here? Bli’ me, your luck’s in!”
“We’ll tell you all about it when we come back, Teddy,” said Doris. “And I’ll bring you home sea-shells and all sorts of pretty things.”
“Right you are, little ’un!” said Ted, as he finished his tea and commenced to fill his pipe. “I’ll tell you what you can get me, if you don’t mind—some real good sorts of straps; you know the sort,” he said, turning to Eileen, “same as them I strap the bags on with. Last time I sent to one of them Sydney firms they sent bad buckles. Here, I’ll give you the money now,” and he pulled out a pound note.
“Oh, Teddy! it’ll do when we come back,” said Eileen, not taking the proffered note. “They won’t be near that much.”
“No, take the note now and give us the change when you come back. ‘Pay as you go’—that’s Teddo’s motto.”
And every mail day Teddo’s list of requirements grew bigger, until it seemed as though the pound note would not meet them; and Eileen would jot them in her little notebook.
“You see, you know me, and know just what I want,” he would say, apologetically.
“I’ll tell you what I would like,” he said one day after he had fixed and patted and arranged the mailbags ever so many times—“a tie like that your Uncle used to wear; sort o’ black with little silvery streaks in it.”
“Oh, but, Teddy, that was real dear!” said Eileen, quickly.