Presently the room was a gay litter of tissue paper, colored ribbons, toys, books. Letty sat in the middle of her pile, revolving like a yellow top among the exciting things. Spencer had waited tensely while Catherine unwrapped a large bundle, and then turned a little pale with delight at her surprise. Yes, he had made it himself, at school. It was a stand for a fern. He had carved it, too. Book ends for his father. Then he had immersed himself in his own possessions.
Charles admired the platinum cuff links in the little purple box with Catherine's card. Catherine grinned at him. "Nice to give you a present," she said, "without having to ask you for the money for it." She regretted her words; his smile seemed forced.
"What did Daddy give you, Muvver?" Marian, hugging her doll, pressed against Catherine's knee.
"Well, this." Catherine held up a box of chocolates.
"That's not all," said Charles promptly.
"Here's another." Spencer wiggled along on his knees to hand her another box.
Long and thin—that wasn't the same box. Catherine unwrapped the paper, and long black silk stockings dangled from her fingers.
"Fine," she said. "Just what I wanted." She waited for a repetition of "That's not all," but Charles said only, "I didn't know what you would like."
She glanced up quickly. He was teasing her—they had joked about useful gifts. But he had picked up a book. The red cover blurred before Catherine's eyes. He was pulling his chair up to the table light.
The stockings clung to her finger tips, as if her bewilderment electrified them. Mrs. O'Lay, lumbering through the hall to the kitchen, stopped at the door in loud admiration of the tree.