"Where did you come from, you small imp?" said Neal, with lazy good-nature. Preoccupied though he was, he was fond of children, and particularly of mischief-loving Janet, and he was not sorry to have his solitude relieved by her coming.
"Where's my present?" repeated Janet; "I want it dreadful bad."
"Your present! What do you mean, young one? You don't suppose for an instant that I'm making this boat for you, do you?"
"Boat!" cried Janet, disdainfully; "I don't want any old boat; I want Aunt Betsey's present."
"I suppose you do. I would myself if I were so lucky as to own an Aunt Betsey. But I'm afraid I can't help you in that line, my child."
"Yes, you can," said Janet, tugging at his elbow; "you can too. You've got it. Papa said so."
"Got what?"
"Aunt Betsey's present. He and the postmaster man said you took it."
"Said I took it?"
"Yes. Come, Neal, give it to me. I don't want the gold dollars—you can have those—but I'd like the funny thing she sent with them. Aunt Betsey allus sends funny things. Come along, Neal. Give it to me."