"Do you?" demanded his wife a bit pointedly.
"Honk-honk!" screamed the motor at the door.
"Oh, dear me, whatever in the world shall I do?" cried Flame's Mother. "I'm almost distracted! I'm—"
"When in Doubt do as the Doubters do," suggested Flame's Father quite genially. "Choose the most doubtful doubt on the docket and—Flame's got a pretty level head," he interrupted himself very characteristically.
"No young girl has a level heart," asserted Flame's Mother. "I'm so worried about the Lay Reader."
"Lay Reader?" murmured her Father. Already he had crossed the threshold into the hall and was rummaging through an over-loaded hat rack for his fur coat. "Why, yes," he called back, "I quite forgot to ask. Just what kind of a Christmas is it, Flame, that you want to make?" With unprecedented accuracy he turned at the moment to force his wife's arms into the sleeves of her own fur coat.
Twice Flame rolled up her cuffs and rolled them down again before she answered.
"I—I want to make a Surprise for Miss Flora," she confided.
"Honk-honk!" urged the automobile.
"For Miss Flora?" gasped her Mother.