“My darling little son,” it ran, “if I could only be with you this—”
“Pshaw!” he said huskily, “it costs so much to come!” And he turned his back abruptly on the desk without another word.
When Mrs. Darling knocked at the door, a short time later, there was a long pause before a hurried “Come in,” replied.
The little boy looked very uncomfortable, as though he were just about to be caught doing something he shouldn’t do, and there was a look about one of his pillows as though something had been hastily stuffed beneath it. Mrs. Darling’s arms were full of packages and paper, besides a quantity of pink and blue ribbon which gave her very much the appearance of a Maypole.
“Will Your Royal Majesty fasten up the presents now?” she asked.
“Yes,” said the little boy, gravely; “but how about the stockings? There must be stockings.”
“The stockings are already hung by the mantelpiece in the study, just as Your Majesty commanded, and Lady Nora is filling them with fudge and nuts and apples, besides a sprinkling of ginger-cookies, that she made at the last minute.”
“O-o-oh!” cried the little boy; “how splendid!”
“And Sir Patrick is trimming up the tree with great boughs of evergreen.”
The little boy’s face was radiant.