"It must be a tremendous lot of cake," opined the Boy, who was carrying the bulky parcel. "Let's get home and open it."
Owing, I think, to the cost of sugar, confections of every kind in Majorca are expensive and limited in variety. And although in England a plethora of good things had made us inclined to be blasé, two months of residence in this land where sweets are matters for consumption on high-days and holy-days had revealed in each of us the possession of an unexpected sweet tooth. And the sight of the ample proportions of that confectioner's parcel set them aching furiously.
"If it's sweets, we must not begin eating them until luncheon is over," I said, more by way of counsel to myself than to the others.
"We'll see," said the Boy, who was determined not to commit himself.
When we had entered the Casa Tranquila the carefully packed box was lifted on to the table and the exciting task of opening it began. The seals had already been broken, but there seemed several miles of carefully knotted string to unwind. Beneath the enveloping brown paper was an encasing of the corrugated cardboard in which breakables are packed. Within that was a thick layer of fine shavings. The dimensions of the package had been considerably lessened when, all the outer wrappings thrown aside, there was revealed a large square tin box. The side presented to us bore no sign of an opening. It really seemed as though the elusive gift was determined to baffle us.
"The box has been carefully soldered," said the Man. "I can't understand how the Customs could fix the amount of the duty without knowing what was inside. How are we going to open it, I wonder?"
But when he turned the box over a wide gash in the bottom revealed that the task had already been performed. Pressing aside the jagged edges of the tin, we saw within yet more shavings. When they had been carefully removed, fragments of china, and something tied in a rent white cloth met our gaze.
"It's been a plum-pudding, and they've smashed it to atoms," the Man said bitterly.
"Oh, what a shame! The mean wretches!" I lamented.
The Boy said nothing, but felt for his pipe.