Hal turned away sharply, frowning angrily.
Cip stared at him in amazement and then, shrugging his shoulders, looked across at the girl.
Anny had not noticed Hal’s expression, and Cip’s face broke into smiles again as he watched her. She was trying to open the little wooden box, her face was flushed, and she was breathing quickly with childish excitement. At last she gave it up, and, turning to Cip, offered it for him to open. The sailor wiped his hands carefully on his green-and-yellow neckerchief before he took the box gingerly between his thumb and forefinger. After turning it over once or twice he tried his strength on the tightly fitting lid and jerked it off, and held it out to the girl.
Anny took it eagerly and gave a little cry of delight as she examined the contents.
“Marry! Hal, I prithee, see!” she laughed as she pulled out a long string of polished amber beads and put them over her head. “And, oh, look you! look you!” she exclaimed, holding out a brooch about the size of a large oyster, which was of painted porcelain with a silver border studded with brilliants. “Oh, and see! Look, look, Hal! why don’t you look?” she went on as she pulled first one trinket after another out of the little wooden box and held it up for their inspection. Suddenly she paused, and putting in her hand very carefully brought out a little carved-wood elephant, brought no doubt from the East by some traveller.
“Oh, what a mannikin,” she exclaimed, fingering the exquisite workmanship in wonderment. “Look ’ee, Hal, whatever will it be?”
Hal looked down at the little figure as she stood before him, the carved bauble lying in the palm of her small brown hand, and sighed.
“Oh!” he said, as he picked up the elephant and looked at it quizzically. “I reckon ’tis some heathen image.”
Anny snatched it away from him and held it tightly.
“Oh! nay,” she said almost pleadingly, “’tis not, indeed, or anyway ’tis marvellous dainty.”