The two children stood to one side. Mrs. Carraway appeared surprised in an amused fashion, while Carraway stood appalled at what lay before him, as well he might; for the package contained a great wax doll with deep staring blue eyes, a small doll's house with two floors in it and a front door that opened, china and chairs and table and bureaus in miniature to furnish the house—indeed, all the paraphernalia of a well-ordered residence for a French doll. Besides these were two boxes of tin soldiers, cannon, tents, swords, a fully equipped lead army, a mechanical fish, and a small zinc steamboat, suitable for a cruise in a bath-tub.
Carraway looked at the children, and the children looked at Carraway.
"Why," said he, as soon as he could recover his equanimity, "there must be some mistake."
"No," said Mollie. "We picked 'em out for you ourselves. We thought you'd need 'em."
Mrs. Carraway turned away to cough slightly.
"Need them?" demanded Carraway with a perplexed frown. "When?"
"Oh—to-morrow," said Tommie.
"What for?" demanded Carraway.
"Why, to give to us, of course" said the children in chorus.