"What you got?" demanded Elvira, feeling quite elegant and sociable, and smoothing down the overcoat front with contented fingers.
"Mammy's shawl—for you," said Luke.
"I don't want it," said Elvira, picking at the end of the woollen tippet with her little finger quirked up elegantly. "Put it on yourself," which Luke was only too glad to do.
"Where'd you get 'em?" gasped Luke, forgetting in his worry over Elvira's being out in the cold, any big bundle she might have had in possession at the time of her departure and laying fearful fingers on the magnificent coat-sleeve.
"O dear, hee-hee-hee!" Elvira went off into a giggle again. And she swung her feet smartly back and forth. "Why, see there, Luke Hansell!" She flapped the coat collar back suddenly. "See there!" she repeated.
"Where?" said Luke, stupidly.
"Why, there, you silly thing, see that paper! 'For Biggest Boy.' I know. I've spelled it all out."
"Well, I don't see," began Luke, blankly, huddling up in the old shawl and wishing it was bigger.
"Oh, you, I'd like to shake you, Luke!" cried Elvira, twisting her hands together nervously; "it's just as bad as it can be to be so stupid. I ought to shake you."
"You may," said Luke, humbly, who had given that answer many times to Elvira, but had never yet received the shaking.