At present it resembled a maelstrom, for Wally and Jim were unpacking. Brownie, putting in her head, described it as "a perfick shambles," and affected great horror at the havoc occasioned by having boys in the house—beaming all the while in a manner calculated to destroy the effect of any lecture. Norah, perched on the end of the sofa, which was the only free spot in the room, looked on at the operations with deep interest. Occasionally, when some special parcel was unearthed, one of the boys diverted her attention laboriously, since it was near Christmas-time, which is ever a season of mysteries. The parcel stowed away hastily in a cupboard, Norah was permitted to gaze once more, unrestricted.
"What's that, Jim?" she asked, catching a glimpse of silver in the recesses of a suitcase.
"Oh, nothing."
"I believe it's your cup," said his sister excitedly. "Do make him show me, Wally!"
"The mug it is!" said Wally, diving in under Jim's nose, and snatching the article in question. "Don't be an ass, Jimmy—d'you expect to keep it always in your boot-bag?"
"Very nice place for it," Jim was understood to mutter.
"Ripping—but you'll want it for your boots. Catch, Norah!"
The big silver cup flew across the room, and was deftly fielded by the lady on the end of the sofa.
"Oh, isn't it a beauty!" she said delightedly. "Jimmy, I'm so proud to know you!"
"You ought to have seen him going up to get it," Wally said. "Lovely sight—he blushed so prettily!"