"Making such a time about it, you heathen!" retorted Polly, diving
after a ball of golden-yellow wool; "you know perfectly well that
all the fun of Christmas is in surprising people. I'd rather have
a paper of pins, and have the fun of being astonished over it,
than get the most elegant present in creation and know all about
it beforehand."
"That's all very fine, Poll; but I haven't been able to come near
you girls for a month, without your all howling at me," objected
Alan. "Now, of course I know you aren't doing all this for me, but
you won't let me see anything. I'll start up some secrets, too;
see if I don't!"
"Poor boy, does he want to see?" said Katharine protectingly.
"Well, I'll show you one thing, Alan, if you'll promise not to
tease any more."
"Depends on what 'tis," returned Alan grudgingly. "One is better
than nothing, so go ahead."
Katharine gathered up her work under the light shawl which lay
across her shoulders, and went away out of the room. Presently she
came back again, with a pile of something soft and red in her
arms.
"There now!" she said, shaking out the folds with conscious pride.
"This is our grandest secret of all. It's a dressing-gown for
Bridget, and we girls have cut and made it ourselves, every
stitch.
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