“When will she have it?” demanded Geordie, bouncing in his seat with impatience.
“Sometime on Monday.”
“Heart alive! what is the boy talking about?” cried the old lady from behind the tall urn, which left little to be seen but the topmost bow of her cap.
“Doesn't auntie know?” asked a chorus of voices.
“No; and that's the best of the joke, for she is desperately fond of it.”
“What colour is it?” asked Rose, joining in the fun.
“Blue and brown.”
“Is it good to eat?” asked Jamie.
“Some people think so, but I shouldn't like to try it,” answered Charlie, laughing so he split his tea.
“Who does it belong to?” put in Steve.