“It’s a great deal worth than that,” answered Johnnie, who by this time was kneeling beside the case, hauling out the birds and shells with more vigour than dexterity.

“Nothing to do with gunpowder, I hope,” said Emily with her usual insouciance.

“There are the girls; I hear them coming in the carriage,” exclaimed Johnnie by way of answer, while Emily was placing the shells on a table.  “No, father didn’t send me; he doesn’t know.”

“What is it, then?” she repeated, feeling more at liberty to investigate the matter, now she had been expressly told that John had nothing to do with it.

On this, instead of making a direct reply, he exclaimed, looking very red and indignant, “I told them it was no use at all my coming, and now you see it isn’t.  They thaid they wouldn’t come unless I did.  If you thought I should be rude, you might make me stop at school all the holidays, or at old Tikey’s; I shouldn’t thay a word.”

Emily’s hand was on the boy’s shoulder as he knelt before the case.  Surely she understood what he meant; but if so, where could he possibly have acquired the knowledge he seemed to possess?  And even then he was the last person from whom she could have expected this blunt, embarrassed, promise of fealty.

The girls entered, and the two little ones.  Emily met them, and while she gave each a kiss, Johnnie started up, and with a great war-whoop of defiance to his sisters, burst through the open window, and blushing hotly fled away.

Much the same thing over again.  The girls were all in their best; they generally loved to parade the crofts and gardens clad in brown holland and shaded by flapping hats.  The children scorned gloves and all fine clothes as much as they did the carriage; and here they were—­little Hugh in his velvet suit, looking so fair and bright-haired; Anastasia dressed out in ribbons, and with a very large bouquet of hothouse flowers in her hand.  The girls pushed her forward.

“It’s for you,” said the little girl, “and isn’t it a grand one!  And my love, and we’re come to call.”

“Thank you, my sweet,” said Emily, accepting the bouquet, “I never saw such a beauty!” She was sitting on a sofa, and her young guests were all standing before her.  She observed that little Hugh looked very sulky indeed.  “It’s extremely unfair,” he presently burst out, “they made Swan cut the best flowers in the houses, and they gave them all to Nancy to give, and I haven’t got none.”

Barbara whispered to him, trying to soothe his outraged feelings, but he kept her off with his elbow till Emily drew him near, and observed that it was not her birthday, and therefore that one present was surely enough.

Barbara replied that Hughie had brought a present, but he was very cross because it was not so pretty as Anastasia’s.

“Yes, I’ve brought this,” said Hugh, his countenance clearing a little as he opened his small gloved hand, and disclosed a very bright five-shilling piece.  “It’s not so pretty, though, as Nannie’s.”