"That's all we've bought for Christmas so far, Denis. We'd better hurry up."
"There's not much to get this year," he said gloomily.
She stabbed the table with her pencil.
"Sir William Harrison will give 'em all their Christmas 'comforts,'" he pursued with a sneer.
She sighed.
"Nora says in the letter I had this morning that they're really very nice people, only none of them can bear to see them in our home. She says they're awfully good to the poor people, and—and haven't altered anything—"
There was a silence.
"There's the hospital," she began; "we must send the box off in good time, and I want to give Sarah's little brothers and sisters presents, and now Sheila Pat has chummed up with that milkman, and he certainly has two of the dearest little chubby girls! There's a good deal to get, Denis."
"So there is, asthore! To-morrow's Saturday. We'll go shopping directly after lunch!"
He picked up a chocolate cake from the table and ate it. It was one of a lot he had bought for Sheila Pat, whose lunch, in punishment for some misdeed, had been meagre and puddingless. Miss Kezia invariably punished the Atom so, and Denis invariably bought her a substitute of cakes and goodies to make up.