One of the few wedding presents was embarrassing alike to bride and bridegroom, for it came from a man whom both disliked, but whom one of the two would rather not offend.
Eve’s appearance in the family sitting-room just a little later than usual one morning was loudly hailed by Hetty and Peggy, who were squabbling over a small parcel which had arrived, registered and insured, by the morning post.
“It is a jeweller’s box in the shape of a crescent,” cried Peggy. “It must be a crescent brooch. How too utterly lovely! But it is not from Mr. Vansittart.”
They called him Mr. Vansittart still, although he had begged them to call him Jack.
“It would be too awfully free and easy to call so superb a gentleman by such a vulgar name,” Hetty said, when the subject came under discussion.
“I say it is from Mr. Vansittart,” protested Hetty. “Who else would send her a diamond crescent?”
“How do you know it’s diamonds?”
“Oh, of course. Bridegrooms always give diamonds. Did you ever see anything else in the weddings in the Lady’s Pictorial?”
“Bother the Lady’s Pictorial! it ain’t his handwriting.”
“Ain’t it, stupid? Who said it was? It’s the jeweller’s writing, of course—with Mr. Vansittart’s card inside.”