"Oh, lots of things. What'd you get?"
Sid stopped a moment to recount his various gifts, lest one of them be omitted in the effort to impress his neighbor.
"'Nother football," he boasted. "Cost five dollars, it did."
"I got a railway with forty-'leven pieces of track."
"My uncle sent me a peachy pair of boxing gloves," Sid continued.
"Just wait till you see what my uncle sends me. Always comes in the mail, it does, but it hasn't come yet. Besides, I got a new sled."
"And I've got a punching bag."
"But you ought to see my 'lectric motor," retorted John, still undaunted. "You just wait till you see the toys I make for it to run."
Sid had saved his last and most cherished possession until the last. "My mother, she gave me a real gun, a Winchester. It'll shoot across the lake, it shoots so far. I'm going hunting with it on the ranch, next summer."
"That's all right." John was not in the least nonplussed. "But the cops won't let you shoot it in the city, and you've got to wait until spring comes before you can use it. I can go home and have all sorts of fun with all my things, now."