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Didn't your grandmother give you a sovereign as a Christmas-box? And I gave you ten shillings myself!" "I do want it, though," said Dick; "that's all spent. And you know you always have given me money to take back." "If I do give you some, you'll only go and spend it," grumbled Mr. Bultitude, as if he considered money an object of art.
"It's a big one, Miss," said she. "Perhaps it's a Christmas-box, Miss." And beaming with geniality and kitchen warmth, Jemima returned to her labours. Madam Liberality made up her mind about the dresses and aprons; then she opened her letter. It announced the death of her cousin, her godmother's husband.
'Never a fear, quoth Rowley. 'W'y Mr. Anne, sir, if he 'ad, you wouldn't have seen ME any more! I ain't a hass, sir! 'Well, my boy, you can put that receipt in your pocket. You'll have no more use for it till you're quite clear of me. Don't lose it, though; it's your share of the Christmas-box: fifteen hundred pounds all for yourself. 'Begging your pardon, Mr.
On New Year's Day, 1753, Elizabeth wore her holiday best 'a purple masquerade stuff gown, a white handkerchief and apron, a black quilted petticoat, a green undercoat, black shoes, blue stockings, a white shaving hat with green ribbons, and 'a very ruddy colour. She had her wages, or Christmas-box, in her pocket a golden half guinea in a little box, with three shillings and a few coppers, including a farthing.
Now it was the little Princess, a quaint tiny figure "in dark-blue velvet and white shoes, and, yellow kid gloves," keeping the nurseries alive with her sports, showing off the new frocks she had got as a Christmas-box from her grandmamma, the Duchess of Kent, and bidding Miss Liddell put on one.
"Never a fear," quoth Rowley. "W'y, Mr. Anne, sir, if he 'ad, you wouldn't have seen me any more! I ain't a hass, sir!" "Well, my boy, you can put that receipt in your pocket. You'll have no more use for it till you're quite clear of me. Don't lose it, though; it's your share of the Christmas-box: fifteen hundred pounds all for yourself." "Begging your pardon, Mr.
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.
Wallula was a young girl, and this mystery of a Christmas-box was full of delight to her; but just then a greater delight the joy of Major Molly's fidelity made her forget everything else. But Molly did not forget. The minute she had finished her story she sprang to her feet, and produced the contents of the box.
Will Finch, the Ex-vice Chamberlain, Lord Warwick, and your friend Lord Bolingbroke. I wonder at none of them for parting; but I wonder at many for still living together; for in this country it is certain that marriage is not well understood. I have this day sent Mr. Larpent two hundred pounds for your Christmas-box, of which I suppose he will inform you by this post.
You've done me one or two good turns, and I should like to make you a Christmas-box of three 'arf-dollars." I let 'im give 'em to me, and then, just to please 'im, I let 'im try the collar on 'is dog, while I swept up a bit. "It looked beautiful on 'im," he ses, when I'd finished; "but I've put it back agin. Come on, Bruno. Good-night, Bill."
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