“Not if you oughtn’t to tell.”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter, if you keep it. Granny is going to give you——”
“Don’t!” said Miss Lestrange, feeling as though she could weep at the thought of the innocent Christmas festivities, and the present being prepared for her.
“It’s a grebe muff and a prayer-book,” said Lord Gawdor, hurriedly unlading his secret.
“Oh!” said she, losing all sense of pathos in the shock of this information.
“But you’re not to tell,” said Lord Gawdor.
“I won’t,” said she. “Listen—who is that?” They had neared the nursery door, which was a bit open.
“That’s Mr Fanshawe; he’s helping to nail up the holly.”
Violet paused at the door and peeped in.
Mr Fanshawe, in his shirt sleeves, was standing on a step-ladder, hammer in hand, vigorously at work. Doris and Selina were helping.