“Did you leave a box here Saturday night?” Mr. Lloyd inquired pleasantly, when the boy stood before him.

The red lips began to frame a “No,” then closed tightly together, while the slim little figure whirled about and made an attempt to leap over the piazza railing,—­an attempt that would have been successful if one foot had not caught in a stout vine.

Royal, waiting in the wagon at the back porch, heard a sudden cry, and hurried to see what had happened.  He found Bert scrambling to his feet, brisk and angry.  The child made a dash towards his brother, and seized his hand.

“What’s the matter?” asked Royal.  No answer, but a renewed tug at his hand to draw him away.

“The little fellow tried to jump the piazza railing and fell,” explained Mr. Lloyd, laughingly.

“Papa just asked him a question,—­if he brought us a box Saturday night; and as he didn’t want to answer, he ran,” spoke up Elsie.

“I didn’t, I jumped!” cried the child.

Everybody laughed.

“Can’t you tell us?” asked Marge, looking at Royal. “Did your brother bring it?”

“Yes,” answered Royal, flushing up.

“And who sent it?” asked Elsie, impatiently.  She waited a moment for an answer.  As none came, she asked still more impatiently, “Do you know the person who sent it?”

“Yes,” in a hesitating voice.

“Did the person tell you not to tell?”

“No,” in the same hesitating voice.

“Then why in the world don’t you tell?  You’ve no right to keep it back like this.  It is our affair, not yours, and so it is our right to know who it is.  Don’t you understand that we don’t want people to send us things—­presents—­and not know anything about who it is?”

Royal looked startled, and the flush on his face deepened.  Elsie thought she had conquered him, and chirped out an encouraging, “Come, now, who was it?” But to her surprise the boy flung up his head with an angry movement, and with a defiant glance at her said stubbornly,—­

“I’ve a perfect right not to answer your question, and I sha’n’t!”

“Well, of all the brazen—­”

“Elsie!” warned her father, “don’t say anything more.”

“You’ll let me say one thing more, papa.  Rhoda told us that this boy was very accommodating, and he brought me such nice big eggs, I thought he was, and meant to give him something to show my appreciation, and I’d like to give it to him now.  Here,” taking something from her pocket, “give this to your brother,” she said to little Bert, who stood eying her curiously.  The child’s hand opened involuntarily.  Into it dropped a royal purple egg.

Royal saw and understood.  “Give it back to her!” he cried.

Bert, feeling the passion in his brother’s voice, drew off, and flung the egg with all his might at Elsie.  Luckily for her, it missed its aim and whizzed past, striking some article with a breaking crash beyond her.