"Yes; I shouldn't have liked to take money," Bill said. "I sees——"
"See," Mrs. Andrews corrected.
"Thank you. I see things different—differently," he corrected himself, seeing that George was about to speak, "to what I did then."
"Now, mother," George said, "let us open the basket; it's almost as big as a clothes-basket, isn't it?"
The cover was lifted and the contents, which had after much thought been settled by Nelly herself, were disclosed. There were two bottles of port-wine, a large mold of jelly, a great cake, two dozen oranges, some apples, a box of preserved fruit, some almonds and raisins, two packets of Everton toffee, a dozen mince-pies, and four pots of black-currant jelly, on the cover of one of which was written in a sprawling hand, "Two teaspoonfuls stirred up in a tumbler of water for a drink at night."
"This will make a grand feast, mother; what a jolly collection, isn't it? I think Miss Penrose must have chosen it herself, don't you?"
"It certainly looks like it, George," Mrs. Andrews replied, smiling. "I do not think any grownup person would have chosen mince-pies and toffee as appropriate for sick boys."
"Yes; but she must have known we were not badly burned, mother; and besides, you see, she put in currant-jelly to make drinks, and there are the oranges too. I vote that we have an orange and some toffee at once, Bill."
"I have tasted oranges," Bill said, "lots of them in the market, but I never tasted toffee."
"It's first-rate, I can tell you."