"Very well," I said, "we'll let presents go on a bit longer and chance it."
"And don't you forget," she said firmly, "that you've got to choose a present for George Henderson to-day."
"George Henderson?" I said dreamily. "Do you think George Henderson wants a present? Isn't he the sort which 'hopes that wedding presents will not be sent'? I've always felt he had a look in his eye which said, 'Dear old chap, I shall be married some day.—Whatever you do, don't send me a present.' Haven't you felt that about him, too?"
"No," she said, "I haven't. In fact George has always seemed to me the very man for a present. And now he's going to be married. It's the chance of a lifetime."
"Well, then," I said, "if you feel like that you ought to buy the present. You'll do it better. You'll put more real feeling into it."
"That may be," she said, "but you 're going to London, and I'm not. You'll have to do it this time."
"Oh, very well," I said; "have it your own way; but I warn you I shall buy silver candlesticks."
The two elder girls, who had been listening with eager interest, now broke in.
"Dad," said Helen to Rosie, "is going to try for his old candlesticks."
"Yes," said Rosie; "but you'll see he won't be allowed."