“Something I read in a paper, mother. These wicked negroes pay high prices for rifles, and of course it is best to let them believe they are buying the genuine article.”
Mam was puzzled, but the Guv’nor laughed.
“Excellent!” he cried. “I am glad to hear that one member of the family has grasped the true principles of commercial success.”
“I’m sure I don’t know where Millicent gets her ideas from,” sighed Mam. “When I was her age I could no more have said such a thing than I could have flown.“
“And you certainly were never built for flying, less now than ever,” smiled her husband. Of course, I paid little heed to all this chaff, because I was bolting half that jam sandwich, which Minkie had dropped. Evangeline saw what happened, and said nothing, so it will be “Whistle and I’ll come to you, my lad,” to-night. But I woke up to the sounds of battle when Mam wanted to know who was going to church. Everybody said “I,” except Schwartz, who had letters to write. You ought to have watched his face when Minkie said quietly:
“In that case you will miss seeing Jack Stanhope, the friend of whom I was telling you yesterday.”
“Jack! Is he at home?” Dolly blurted out, and then blushed right down her neck.
“Yes. Didn’t you know?”
“How could I? If it comes to that, how do you know?”
“He sent me a Christmas picture postcard last evening, one of the new ones, with the season’s wishes and a lot of robins on one side and a ha-penny stamp with the address and a little bit of a letter on the other. Here it is. Shall I read it?”