Thomas and Billy, feeling the solemnity of the occasion needed some expression, did not open the door and run in as was their custom, but reached up and rang a peal at the bell, a peal that clanged like a challenge through the empty house and brought Ellen hurrying up the kitchen stairs, expecting a telegram at the very least. Finding only the familiar figures of Thomas and Billy, she murmured to herself, "What next, I wonder?" and leading the way to the drawing-room, announced the illustrious couple.
Buff greeted them with a joyous shout.
"Come on. I helped to fry the potatoes."
The supper had been chosen by the boys themselves, and consisted of sausages and fried potatoes, jam tartlets and tinned pineapple, with home-made toffee to follow; also two syphons of lemonade.
It was spread on a small table, the tablecloth was a kitchen towel, and there was only one tumbler and the barest allowance of knives and forks; but Buff was charmed with his feast, and hospitably eager that his guests should enjoy it.
"Come on," he said again.
But Thomas, gripping Billy's hand, hung back, and it was seen that he carried a parcel.
"I've brought Buff a present," he announced.
"Oh, Thomas!" said Elizabeth, "not another! After that lovely box of tools."
"Yes," said Thomas firmly. "It's a book—a wee religious book." He handed it to Elizabeth. "It's about angels."