"Yu 'ave."
"I haven't. I've none at all. You've never seen them."
"G'out!"
"That's right."
"Well," said Tommy confidentially, "Yu got a clean chimie-shirt then, an't 'ee?"
In the laughter which followed, the Sunday clothes were slipped on. And while Jimmy was struggling with a new pair of boots, he paid me the nicest compliment I have ever heard. He looked up, red but thoughtful. "Yu'm like Father Christmas," he said.
"Why for, Jimmy?"
"'Cause yu'm kind."
Jimmy doesn't know how kind he is to me. And I don't suppose it would do him any good to tell him.
We had a very typical and enjoyable English Christmas. We over-ate ourselves, and were well pleased, and the children went to bed crying.