"Thank you, sir," said Dudley. "You are very kind, very indulgent. I am
not ungrateful, I assure you."

Max, behind them, was listening with attentive ears. He did not feel so
sure as his father seemed to be that all was now well with Dudley.

"Where's Doreen?" he asked his younger sister.

"Don't know, I'm sure. She's taken herself off somewhere. Probably
somebody else will find her quicker than you will."

The younger sister was right. The younger sister always is on these
occasions.

Within five minutes of his arrival, Dudley found his way into the
breakfast room, where Doreen, a pug dog and a raven were sitting
together on the floor, surrounded by a frightful litter of paper and
shavings and string, wooden boxes, hampers, and odds and ends of cotton
wool.

She just looked up when Dudley came in, gave him a glance and a little
cool nod, and then, as he attempted to advance, uttered a shrill little
scream.

"One step farther, and my wax cupids will be ruined!"

"Wax cupids!" repeated Dudley, feebly.

"Yes, for my Christmas tree. It's to be the greatest success ever known