“That’s not what I mean at all, Katy,” said Floris. “Mamma, I mean a surprise, and not our Christmas presents. Of course, Katy and I know what them’ll be, or most know. It’ll be our new hats, or some aprons, or something we’d had to have any way, and just one of the every-day Christmas presents besides; a book, or a horn of candy. I most know mine’ll be a silver thimble this year, ’cause I lost my old one, and I heard you tell papa that Katy’d better have a workbox, so’s to s’courage her to learn sewing more. Now, see ’f ’tain’t so.”
Mamma sat before her little daughters, her guilt confessed in her looks.
“Not that we blame you, mamma,” added Floris, kindly. “I’m old ’nough now to know that if Santa Klaus brings us anything, he comes round beforehand, and gets every cent they cost out of papa—great Santa Klaus, that is!”
“But what did you mean by a surprise, Floris?”
“O, I d’no, quite,” answered Floris. “But I thought I sh’d like to have something happen that never had before; something planned for me ’n’ Katy that we didn’t know a breath about, and there was no chance of prying into, so that ’twould honestly s’prise us. I never was s’prised in my life yet, mamma. I always found out some way.”
Mrs. Dewey smiled. She went out to prepare dinner, and nothing more was said; and Miss Floris took up her book with a sigh.
But at night, while she was buttoning the two white night-dresses, Mrs. Dewey returned to the subject. “My little daughters, if you will keep out of the kitchen to-morrow, all day, I think I can promise that something very strange and delightful shall happen on Christmas.”
Four little feet jumped right up and down, two little faces flew up in her own, four little hands caught hold of her, four bright eyes transfixed her—indeed, they came pretty near having the secret right out of her on the spot.
“O, mamma! What is it?”
“You must be very anxious to be ‘truly s’prised,’” remarked mamma.