“No; it will only make them disappointed. Let’s go down at once to Bob Hopley’s.”
“What for?”
“To take this.”
Mercer looked at the smaller packet I had for a few moments.
“What is it?” he said.
“A present from my mother for Polly.”
“Oh! Why, it must be a watch.”
“No,” I said; “I think it’s a brooch or a pair of earrings.”
“Oh, won’t she be pleased!”
We walked down to the lodge, where Polly met us at the door, eager to point to a tin of jam pigs which she had just drawn from the oven.