"Go, Sid, and fetch some paper," his mother commanded; turning sweetly to Mrs. Wilbur, who was evidently weighing the consequences of refusing to act as secretary.
However, when Mr. Sanderson brought the writing pad and pencil she accepted them with mollified mien.
"Mr. Brooke shall guess first," Mrs. Sanderson said, addressing the diminutive Englishman, who was smoking before the fire.
"What do you say my package contains, Mr. Brooke?" the lady urged; when the young man persisted in a grinning silence.
"Weally, my deah lady, I am deucid poor at a fancy;" he at length divulged.
"Never mind," cried the aggressive baby girl; "say anything! Time is precious."
"As you insist," the man replied, "I fancy the package contains Mr. Sanderson's sweetheart."
"That is but one guess," objected Mrs. Wilbur, "there are two more possibilities in store for you."
"Three sweethearts, as you bother so," the Englishman replied, greatly elated at his wit.