“Do it for all, Mr. Quilliam,” said the postman, moving off.
“I will, I will,” said Pete; and then he turned into the house.
“Scissors, Nancy,” he shouted, throwing the parcel on the table.
“My sakes, a parcel!” cried Nancy.
“Aisy to tell where it comes from, too. See that knot, woman?” said Pete, with a knowing wink.
“What in the world is it, Pete?” said Nancy.
“I wonder!” said Pete. “Papers enough round it, anyway. A letter? We'll look at that after,” he said loftily, and then out came the scarlet hood. “Gough bless mee what's this thing at all?” and he held it up by the crown.
Nancy made a cry of alarm, took the hood out of his hand, and scolded him roundly. “These men, they're fit to spoil an angel's wings.”
Then she whipped up the baby out of the cradle, tried the hood on the little round head, and shouted with delight.
“Now I was thinking of that, d'ye know?” she said. “I was, yes, I was; believe me or not, I was. 'Kirry will be sending something for the lil one the next time she writes,' I was thinking, and behould ye—here it is.”