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Updated: June 9, 2025
I am going to keep the present I have for him, until then. I'm afraid I won't be able to keep it any longer," says the Boodie, regretfully, "because " She hesitates. "Because it wouldn't let you. I know what it is, it is chocolate creams," says Dicky Browne, making this unlucky speech triumphantly. It is too much!
"I do not," says the Boodie, stoutly, "and I'd hate an ugly present;" then, with a sudden change of tone, "have you anything for me?" "Darling," murmured Julia, with mild reproof. "Certainly not," says Mr. Browne, promptly; "I want you to love me for myself alone!" "Really nothing?" persists the Boodie, as if unable to credit her senses. "Really nothing."
"How," demands she, pointing to the jelly, with a very superior smile, "how do you think one could live upon that?" "Why not? I don't see how anyone could possibly desire anything better to live upon." "Just fancy Robinson Crusoe on it," says the Boodie, with a derisive smile.
"You could not," says the Boodie, indignant at being so continuously contradicted on a point so clear. "If you had ten whole jellies if you had one as big as this house you couldn't manage it." "I really beg your pardon," protests Mr. Browne, with dignity. "It is my belief that I could manage it in time. I'm very fond of jelly."
Browne, without a moment's hesitation, flings himself upon his knees before her in an attitude suggestive of the direst despair. "Oh, don't do me out of my Christmas-box," he entreats, tearfully; "I know what your gifts are like, and I would not miss one for any earthly consideration. My lovely Boodie! reconsider your words.
"You would go right through it and come out at the other side," persists the Boodie, nothing daunted. "Like the Thames Tunnel. How nice!" says Dicky Browne, amiably. "Well, you can't live on it now, anyway," says the Boodie, putting the last bit of the jelly island into her small mouth.
"I hope you have been miserable without us," says Dicky Browne, sinking into a chair beside Portia, and lifting the Boodie on to his knee. "We've been wretched in the dining-room; we thought Sir Christopher would never tip us the wink I mean," correcting himself with assumed confusion, "give us the word to join you. What are you looking at? An album?"
"He is a very nice boy, but I'm not prepared to go as far as calling him meek," says Dicky Browne, who begins to scent mischief in the air. "Who applied that word to him?" "I think it is time all you children ran away to nurse," says Julia, in answer to an agonized glance from both girls. "It was Portia," says the Boodie to Dicky Browne, in her sweet innocent treble.
Falconer, 'that he rins as gin I war a boodie? But it's nae wonner he canna bide the sicht o' a decent body, for he's no used till 't. What does he want wi' you, Robert? But Robert had a reason for not telling his grandmother what the boy had told him: he thought the news about his mother would only make her disapprove of him the more. In this he judged wrong. He did not know his grandmother yet.
Jacky and Pussy, who have been listening intently to every word of it, now glare fiendishly upon the favored Boodie, and sullenly, but with fell determination, make a movement toward her.
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