[“And this time she was genuinely surprised”]
“What’s the matter?” asked Chub in distress.
“Every one’s much too nice to me,” sniffed Harry, searching for her handkerchief. (Of course she didn’t have one and so had to borrow Roy’s.)
“Nonsense!” said Roy cheerfully. “Don’t cry, Harry.”
“I’m n-not cr-crying,” answered Harry from behind the folds of the handkerchief. “I’m ju-just blowing my n-nose!”
Every one laughed then and sat down with much scraping of chairs, and Harry, smiling apologetically, opened her packages. There was a pair of silver links for the cuffs of her shirt-waist from Roy, a little gold bar pin from Dick, a Ferry Hill pin from Chub (Harry had lost hers a month before), and a volume of Whittier’s poems from Billy Noon.
“Oh!” said Harry distressfully, when she reached the last present, “I’d forgotten him! Isn’t he coming?”