"You don't s'pose I'd keep any back?"
Maud stood staring. It was beyond her little philosophy.
Earl was passing on when a thought struck him.
"Say, Maud," he cried, eagerly, "haven't you something you can put in? Girls' things might please her better, you know. Some of mine are—rather queer, I'm afraid."
"What have you got?" demanded Maud.
"Well, some of the things are well enough. There's a lot of candy and oranges and figs and books; there's one by Jules Verne I guess she'll like; but there's a great big jack-knife, and—a brown velvet bicycle suit?"
"Why, Earl Munroe! what could she do with a bicycle suit?"
"I thought, maybe, she could rip the seams to 'em, an' sew 'em some way, an' get a basque cut, or something. Don't you s'pose she could?" Earl asked, anxiously.
"I don't know; her mother could tell," said Maud.
"Well, I'll hang it on, anyhow. Maud, haven't you anything to give her?"