"What are those parcels, Lottie?" he said, noticing the heaped-up things on the side-table.
"Never mind. Eat your supper first," she said to him.
"I can eat, and yet know what is in them. They give quite a Christmas and festive character to the place. And what is that I see lying on that chair—a new doll for Daisy? Why, has my careful little woman been so extravagant as to buy the child another doll?"
Mr. Home smiled as he spoke. His wife looked at him gravely. She picked up the very pretty doll and laid it with the other parcels on the side-table.
"I will tell you about the parcels and the doll if you wish it," she answered. "Miss Harman called when I was out, and brought cakes, and sweeties, and toys to the children. She also brought those parcels. I do not know what they contain, for I have not opened them. And she left a note for me. I cannot help the sweeties and cakes, for Harold and Daisy have eaten them; but the toys and those parcels shall go back to-morrow."
Mrs. Home looked very proud and defiant as she spoke. Her husband glanced at her face; then, with a slight sigh, he pushed his supper aside.
"No, I am not hungry, dear. I am just a little overtired. May I see Miss Harman's note?"
Charlotte put it at once into his hand.
He read it carefully once—twice. His own spirit was very loving and Christ-like; consequently the real love and true human feeling in the little note touched him.
"Lottie," he said, as he gave it back to his wife, "why do you want to pain that sweet creature?"