"Well, I don't think that's a bad idea," Bob said, now speaking seriously. "Let me consider. What could we give him? How much money have you by you?"
"One shilling and two-pence, but I shall be having my sixpence pocket-money on Saturday, of course."
"So you'll be good for one shilling and eight-pence. If I put a couple of shillings to that, what could we buy? I know! A pocket-knife! We could get a beauty, with three blades, the best that's made, for three shillings and sixpence or four shillings."
"Oh, Bob, that would be the very thing! Tim has only an old bone-handled pocket-knife with one blade, and that blade is broken! When shall we get it! The new one, I mean? On Saturday?"
"Yes, if you like."
"And how shall we give it to him? I mean, will you, or shall I? You are the elder, but it was my idea that we should make him a present. Still, if you'd like to give it to him—" Kitty broke off, and looked at her brother inquiringly.
"We can draw lots to decide that point," he answered, "then everything will be fair."
Thus it came to pass that the following Saturday, shortly before one o'clock, when Tim spoke to Kitty over the garden wall, and inquired how she and Bob were going to spend the afternoon, she replied, with an air of reserve, which puzzled him and rather aroused his curiosity, that they were going into the town on private business.
"But we shall not be away very long," she added. "And I daresay we shall see you as soon as we get back."
"I don't know about that," he answered, rather piqued because the little girl seemed afraid that he might suggest accompanying her and her brother. "I may not be at home then."