Everyone laughed and Zan added: “I bet you daubed and designed through many incarnations before this present one.”
“Come ahead, girls! I want to see if Miss Miller gave me a new riding-habit—I want one badly!” called Jane.
So with laughing and merriment, the second whirl began.
It happened to be Edith Remington’s name that was chosen, and the package stopped directly opposite the child, so with trembling fingers she untied the string and found a box of water-colours and all the accessories to work with.
“Oh, Miss Miller, I’m so much obliged to you!” exclaimed the delighted little girl, making a quaint curtsey.
The game continued, some claimants having to pay forfeits and some winning the award, until all were called out. The gifts were very appropriate for each one and afforded much pleasure; but Zan had a grievance.
“Miss Miller, I think you’re real mean not to give us a chance to have something on the umbrella for you, too.”
“That wasn’t my fault, Zan. I thought of the umbrella and made it, but your mother insisted upon buying the gifts. She brought them to the farm all wrapped and ready to distribute.”
“It isn’t like mother to forget anyone—Mumsie, where is Miss Miller’s gift?” shouted Zan, as she saw her mother returning from the cabin.
“Right here! It was so heavy it would have broken down the carefully built up umbrella, so I left it for the last gift.”