A secret drawer! Ivy clapped her hands—what a heavenly culmination of attractions! And the desk as a whole, of quartered-oak with bronzed handles and a shelf with a tiny mirror above, was indeed a beauty.
"Oh, Hugh, how—where did you get it?"
"I've been working overtime nights at Pearson's furniture store. The old man's sick and his son had to stay home evenings. I bargained to stay in his place and take it out this way! I kind of thought you'd like it," Hugh explained breathlessly, glancing from his auditors to the desk.
"Oh, Hugh!" cried Ivy deprecatingly.
"It was dead easy! Hardest part was to keep it quiet so to surprise you. It wouldn't do to get too friendly or I'd a blurted it out!"
Hugh's head was bending over the desk, dangerously close to Ivy as it proved, for she gave his hair a sudden pull.
"Oh, Hugh, you good-for-nothing!" she cried.