"You naughty wicked old man," cried Tommy, as he shook with laughter. "Now you shan't have another cup of tea until you've turned out your pockets."
"I give in," said the Captain. "Three to one isn't fair play. I've had enough tea, only let me get my pipe alight and then we'll see."
As long as the girls could remember, their uncle, on his arrival, when his first pipe was lit, had turned out his capacious pockets, in which there was always a present of some kind for every one, besides oddments unaddressed which his nieces appropriated at their fancy. Settled in the arm-chair, with a big calabash pipe in his mouth, he plunged his hand into a pocket, and brought out the red bandana handkerchief.
"That's your flag," cried Tommy. "Be quick!"
"Patience," he replied, producing a tin of tobacco and a knife.
"We'll let you keep them," said Mary. "What next, Uncle?"
"Well, here's a small parcel with somebody's name on it, and it looks uncommon like Mary."
Mary seized the parcel, opened it, and uttered a cry of delight as she unfolded a pretty Indian scarf.
"Oh, you dear!" she cried, giving him a kiss.
He plunged his hand again into his pocket and drew out slowly and with a solemn air that made the girls agog with expectation—a short cutty pipe, at which they cried "Shame!" Then came another small parcel, marked with Elizabeth's name, which proved to contain a tortoiseshell comb with silver mountings. Another dip brought forth a bright round silver case with a long cord hanging from a hole in the side. Tommy pounced on this.