"Maxy, dear," Hannah said, imploringly, "is it covered with plush?"
"Why, how do you know?" Max cried, unguardedly, as he was finishing his sixth cookey.
"I knew it, I knew it," Liseke gasped, wildly.
"Does it make a noise if, well, say, if you bang on it?" Hannah cried, with a beating heart.
"Why—why—yes," Max acknowledged, wrathfully, with a futile kick at Mitz's mother, who was purring about his legs. "There, you mean thing, you're always trying to find out something! Just you wait till I tell yer anything more!" he cried, and slam-banged himself out of the room, with his bosom full of suppressed injuries.
"He was mad because we guessed," Liseke cried, joyfully.
"A piano!" Hannah gasped, as the door went to with a crash.
"A stool," Liseke added; then, "Let's tell mamma!"
That dear, gentle mother, sitting by the dim window trying to mend by the last flicker of daylight! She looked up lovingly as the door flew open.
"Mamma," gasped Hannah, "papa's got a surprise for us."