CHAPTER XXIX
"Time you youngsters were doing your Christmas shopping," said Mr. Patterson the next morning, laying a generous banknote by Pat's plate and two crisp notes by Anne's. "She has to have a double portion," he explained, "because she's a girl—and little—and has to make up lost time."
"Yep, dad," said Pat, nodding agreement to each of these reasons and adding another, "and she has such gangs of people to send things to. You'll have to go to the ten-cent shop, Nancy Anne, or borrow from my bank. Wherever you've been, you've picked up friends, like—like a little woolly lambie gathers burs."
They all laughed at Pat's speech; they were in the joyous frame of mind when laughter comes easily.
"I want to join you in Christmas remembrances to the people who have been so good to you," said Miss Drayton.
"I'll send Jake Collins a ball and Peter a pocket-knife," said Pat, "or would Jake rather have a knife, too?"
"Mrs. Collins shall have a silk dress," said Miss Drayton.
"Oo-ee! That will be glorious," exclaimed Anne. "Let it be the rustly kind. And red. She loves red."
"Mr. Collins shall have an umbrella with a gorgeous silver handle," said Mr. Patterson. "That will be silk. Must it be rustly and red, too?"