If Mrs Machin had sat on the roof and put her
hands over the top of the chimney, she would have been much warmer than
at the grate.
"You aren't in bed?" Denry queried.
"Can't ye see?" said his mother. And, indeed, to ask a woman who was
obviously sitting up in a chair whether she was in bed, did seem
somewhat absurd. She added, less sarcastically: "I was expecting ye
every minute. Where have ye had your tea?"
"Oh!" he said lightly, "in Hanbridge."
An untruth! He had not had his tea anywhere. But he had dined richly at
the new Hotel Metropole, Hanbridge.
"What have ye got there?" asked his mother.
"A present for you," said Denry. "It's your birthday to-morrow."
"I don't know as I want reminding of that," murmured Mrs Machin.
But when he had undone the parcel and held up the contents before her,
she exclaimed:
"Bless us!"
The staggered tone was an admission that for once in a way he had
impressed her.
It was a magnificent sealskin mantle, longer than sealskin mantles
usually are. It was one of those articles the owner of which can say:
"Nobody can have a better than this--I don't care who she is.
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