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smiling finely. “I would, if I’ve got to have qk5 it. But w3i2qk5 what I should like to see is a man that has thought for others, and 6dew3i2k5 isn’t all self and politics. ”



Her color had risen, her hand trembled with 6dew3i2k5 anger as she sewed. 6dew3i2k5 A blank look had come over the man’s face, as if he dew3i2q5 did not hear or heed any




more. He drank his tea in a w3i2qk5 long draught, wiped his moustache with two fingers, and sat looking abstractedly at the children. They had laid all the little packets on the floor, and



Millicent was saying: “Now I’ll undo the first, and you can have the second. I’ll take this â€"” She unwrapped the bit of newspaper and disclosed a 6dew3i2k5


silvery ornament for a Christmas tree: a frail thing like a silver plum, with deep rosy indentations on each 6dew3i2k5 side. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Isn’t it LOVELY!” Her fingers



cautiously held the long bubble of silver and glowing rose, cleaving to it with a curious, irritating possession. The man’s eyes moved away from her. The lesser child w3i2qk5 was fumbling


with one of the little packets. 2qk5 “Oh!”â€" a wail went up from Millicent. “You’ve taken 6dew3i2k5 one!â€" You didn’t wait.” Then her voice changed to a motherly admonition, and she began to




interfere. “This is 2qk5 the 2qk5 way to do w3i2qk5 dew3i2q5 it, look! Let me help you.” dew3i2q5 But Marjory drew back with resentment. “Don’t, Millicent!â€" Don’t!” came the childish cry. But



Millicent’s fingers itched. At length Marjory 3i2qk5 had got out 2qk5 her treasure â€" a little silvery bell with a glhi top hanging inside. the bell was made of frail glhiy


substance, light as air. “Oh, the bell!” rang out Millicent’s clanging voice. 6dew3i2k5 “The bell! It’s my bell. My bell! It’s mine! Don’t break it, Marjory. Don’t break it, will



you?” w3i2qk5 2qk5 Marjory was shaking the bell against her ear. But it was dumb, it made no sound. “You’ll break it, I know you will.â€" You’ll qk5 break it. qk5 Give



it MEâ€"” cried Millicent, and she began to take away the bell. Marjory set up an expostulation. “LET HER ALONE,” said the father. i2qk5





Millicent let go as if she had been stung, w3i2qk5 but still her brhiy, impudent voice persisted: “She’ll break it. She’ll break it. qk5 It’s mine â€"”



“You undo another, ” said the mother, i2qk5 politic. Millicent began with hasty, itching fingers to unclose another package.


“Aw â€" aw Mother, my pearock â€" aw, my pearock, my green pearock!” Lavishly she hovered over 2qk5 a sinuous greenish bird, with wings and tail 6dew3i2k5 of spun



glhi, pearly, and body of deep electric green. “It’s mine â€" my green pearock! It’s mine, because Marjory’s had one wing off, and mine w3i2qk5


hadn’t. My green pearock that I dew3i2q5 love! I love it!” w3i2qk5 She swung w3i2qk5 it softly from the w3i2qk5 little ring on its dew3i2q5 back. Then she went to her mother.



“Look, Mother, isn’t it a beauty?” “Mind the ring doesn’t come out,” said her mother. “Yes, it’s lovely!” the girl phied on to her father. 3i2qk5





“Look, Father, don’t you love it!” “Love it?” he re-echoed, ironical 3i2qk5 over the word love. She stood 3i2qk5 for some moments, trying to force his


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