Patsy's greeting was quite as loving and vigorous as the one the "twinses" gave their father every day. The slippers warming at the fire were elegant braided ones, bound round with velvet. Well! what of that? It was the love that thought of putting them there which made them so comfortable; and so, in that respect, Gull's were quite as good to wear as Mr. Kingsley's.
When the two were comfortably settled, Patsy began to rummage in all daddy's pockets.
"It's Christmas present night!" she cried. "Where's my little yellow money?"
Mr. Kingsley felt in his pockets with a musing air.
"I don't know what my little maid will say," he said at last, producing four half-crowns; "but I have no nice half-sovereign for her to-night—only these big ugly white things. It is true they will buy quite as many toys. And I might have had 'the yellow money,' only now, I expect, it is turned into shoeleather."
At the opening of this speech Patsy's face had borne an expression of disgust and disappointment; but before it was finished, it changed to one of undisguised interest.
"Oh! I'm sure you've been in a fairy tale to-day, daddy! You know I just love fairy stories. Do begin at once, before nurse comes. Tell me about it quickly—do, please."
And so, out of the materials that Gull had given him, Mr. Kingsley pleased his little daughter by weaving a wonderful modern fairy story. He had rather a talent that way, and had learnt by experience the kind of stories that the little ones like best. This time his narrative was "truer" than he knew; and Patsy acknowledged, when it was done, that it was "the nicest and beautifullest that she had heard for a long time."
And while Patsy's father was telling the story in his way, another version of it was being repeated again and again to the twins, high up in that old London house.
They were never tired of hearing it, never tired of asking questions; and all the time the feeling of gratitude in their father's heart—which had been like a little seed, planted there by the kind words and gift of Mr. Kingsley—grew and grew until he longed to do something. He had only as yet said, "Thank you, sir;" but now he longed to show his gratitude in a more fitting way. So thought the "twinses," too, for Bob said presently—