"Next week—next week."
Zip, during this preliminary canter, had slipped his pack to the ground and was uncovering the tarpaulin.
"Bretty laties must have bretty tings; vot? All silk! Barkain! De most vonderful lincherie—feren frend shmuggles it through de coostom house. Sh'h dot's a secret! Look at dot hein?"
"No, no; don't want to see a thing. Don't tempt me!"
"Mees Baxter?"
"Impossible," said Doré, laughing. "Bad month! I'm saving up for Christmas presents!"
"Vell, it don't cost nottings to look, eh?" said Zip, suddenly bringing to light a mass of pink and white feminine lingerie. "Eef it don't embarrass de shentlemans?"
"Come on! Let's have a look at them!" said Harry Benson, gorgeously excited at the idea of this devilish pastime.
The two girls continued to protest, averting their eyes, while the prop, alternately eager and hesitating, afraid that too abrupt an offer would offend their sensibilities, continued to run through the bewildering array of secret silks and laces. Perhaps he was decided finally by an encouraging wink from Zip, who thus telegraphed to him that, being his friend, he advised him to dare. Anyhow, very red and confused, he blurted out:
"Look here, girls, don't be furious at me! Give me this pleasure, won't you? I've won an awful lot at bridge lately. Let me make a little present! By jove, Ida, your birthday's next week. Let me beat all the crowd to it. Vaughan'll be furious! What a lark! And you, Miss Baxter, do have a birthday too, won't you?"