"I know what you hope will be there," cried Bob, "a new coat for Father, and a dress for you, and some underclothes for us boys. I heard you say so last night."
"Yes; and Quentina wants a ribbon—not dirty ones," observed Rob.
"Robert!" cried Quentina, very red of face. "You know I don't expect anything of the sort."
The barrel was open now, and eagerly the family gathered around it. Even Mrs. Jones's chair was drawn forward so that she, too, might peep into it.
First there was a great quantity of newspapers—the people had, indeed, found trouble to fill it, evidently. Next came a pincushion—faded pink satin, frilled with not over-clean white lace.
"I can use the lace for a collar," cried Quentina, taking prompt possession of the cushion. "I'm right glad of this!"
A picture came next in a tarnished gilt frame—evidently somebody's early attempts to paint nasturtiums in oil.
"There's a rival for your posies out in the yard," murmured Tilly in Quentina's ear.
A pair of skates was pulled out next, then three dolls, one minus an arm.
"These might be good—on ice," remarked Paul, who had picked up the skates.