there were fine shavings, and then came all the things they had
asked for, and plenty of them, and then a good many things they had
not asked for; among others peaches and port wine and two chickens,
a cardboard box of big red roses with long stalks, and a tall thin
green bottle of lavender water, and three smaller fatter bottles of
eau-de-Cologne. There was a letter, too.

"Dear Roberta and Phyllis and Peter," it said; "here are the things
you want. Your mother will want to know where they came from. Tell
her they were sent by a friend who heard she was ill. When she is
well again you must tell her all about it, of course. And if she
says you ought not to have asked for the things, tell her that I say
you were quite right, and that I hope she will forgive me for taking
the liberty of allowing myself a very great pleasure."

The letter was signed G. P. something that the children couldn't
read.

"I think we WERE right," said Phyllis.

"Right? Of course we were right," said Bobbie.

"All the same," said Peter, with his hands in his pockets, "I don't
exactly look forward to telling Mother the whole truth about it."

"We're not to do it till she's well," said Bobbie, "and when she's
well we shall be so happy we shan't mind a little fuss like that.
Oh, just look at the roses! I must take them up to her."

"And the sweetbrier," said Phyllis, sniffing it loudly; "don't