"I haven't the least idea. The only ones I count on are Effie and Jean."
The Doctor made a motion of remembrance. "To be sure—it's their birthday: that fellow put it out of my head. The child's to come over to you to tea, and just what I stopped for———"
"Was to see if I had got your doll?" Mrs. Beever interrupted him by holding up the muffled parcel in her lap. She pulled away the papers. "Allow me to introduce the young lady."
The young lady was sumptuous and ample; he took her in his hands with reverence. "She's splendid—she's positively human! I feel like a Turkish pasha investing in a beautiful Circassian. I feel too," the Doctor went on, "how right I was to depend, in the absence of Mrs. Ramage, on your infallible taste." Then restoring the effigy: "Kindly mention how much I owe you."
"Pay at the shop," said Mrs. Beever. "They 'trusted' me."
"With the same sense of security that I had!" The Doctor got up. "Please then present the object and accompany it with my love and a kiss."
"You can't come back to give them yourself?"
