Cip stepped forward heavily and looked over her shoulder.
“Oh! nay,” he said at last, “’tis not a heathen image; ’tis a moulding of a beast.”
Anny looked pleased.
“What fine little beasts they must be,” she observed.
“Ah, yes,” said Cip, nodding his head sagely, “wonderful fine little beasts.”
Anny laughed happily, and turned to the silk-and trinket-strewn table.
“Oh, won’t I be fine!” she exclaimed, flinging out her arms as though to embrace the table’s load.
Hal grunted.
“Hadn’t you better look at the sealed paper?” he said sulkily.
But Anny was too overjoyed to notice his tone.