"What thing?"
"Christmas."
"Jas-per!"—it was as if she thought he had the power to sweep good-will itself from the earth. "Christmas—stop!"
"Yes. My dear, how did you spend yesterday?"
"I was—shopping."
"Exactly. And the day before?—and the day before that?—and before that? You need n't answer, for I know. And you were shopping for—" he paused expectantly.
"Presents." Something quite outside of herself had forced the answer.
"Exactly. Now, Edith, surely it need not take all your time for a month before Christmas to buy a few paltry presents, and all of it for two months afterward to get over buying them!"
"But, Jasper, they are n't few, and they're anything but paltry. Imagine giving Uncle Harold a paltry present!" retorted Edith, with some spirit.
The man waved an impatient hand.