Uncle. Always a consolation, my dear Jenny. I'm sure no nephew of mine would kick his sister, except by the merest accident—so let's say no more of that. But it's no use getting 'em what they don't like; so suppose we stick to the fire-engine, and the other concern—theatre is it, Johnny?—Very well—and don't you get me into trouble over 'em, that's all. And Winnie would like a doll, eh?—that's all right. Now everybody's provided for—except Jane!
Jane (frostily). Thank you, Uncle—but you seem to forget I'm not exactly a child! [She walks out of the shop with dignity.
Uncle. Hullo! Put my foot in it again! But we can't leave Jenny out of it—can we? Must get her a present of some sort over the way.... Here, Tommy, my boy, you can tell me something she'd like.
Bobby (later—to Tommy). What did you tell Uncle to get for Jane?
Tommy (with an unholy chuckle). Why, a box with one of those puff-things in it. Don't you know how we caught her powdering her nose with Mother's? And Uncle got her one too! Won't she be shirty just!
[They walk out in an ecstasy of anticipation, as Scene closes.
Mr. Punch's Paragraphist says, "he was never good at dates," not even when served in dishes, for they're dry at the best; but, of the very newest and best kind of Date Cards, Marcus Ward & Co. have a capital selection. Among them the Grandfather's Clock makes a pretty screen, and, being a clock, is, of course, always up to the time of day.