"It's for Liz, sir! She's my sister what can't walk, you know. I've got it—look!" opening out a grimy little palm with a penny, six halfpennies, and two farthings on it. "Ain't it fine? And I put 'er off—she thinks I only got a penny! She do, true as I stand 'ere! It'll 'ave to be a secret till Christmas, too!"
"Did you save it all up?" asked Nell.
"Yes, miss! Every fardin'! And she don't know!"
"You will have to choose very carefully, won't you? A doll, do you think?"
He shook his head.
"Gals are so funny," with a puzzled little frown; "she's got a ole wooden thing, 'as Liz, with no arms nor legs, and she 'ugs it like anythink, and I ses to 'er t'other day, 'Liz,' I ses, that artful she'd never guess what I was up to,—'Liz,' I ses, 'wouldn't it be fine if Sandy Claws was to come and give you a fine new doll with arms and legs now?' And she up with 'er face all red, and she ses quite angry like, 'I wouldn't 'ave it,' she ses, 'ugging 'er old wooden doll, 'I'd throw it in the fire,' she ses, 'my sweet Lily Vilet!'"
"Well, then," Nell suggested, "something for the doll?"
"Yes, miss, that's it!"
He was studying the treasures around him with solemn gaze.
"This little doll's house?" suggested Denis. "Or this Noah's ark—it seems to be filled chiefly with brown paper, by the way. Or this beautiful cradle? All good valley," twinkling at Nell, "excellent valley."