" And therewith this
profound moralist and epigrammatist tucked up her white satin train and
waited for him to open the door, so that she might make her way to the
stage, he humbly following.
On the Christmas morning the display of parcels, packets, and envelopes,
large and small, spread out on the side-table in his sitting-room was
simply portentous; for the fashionable world of London had had no
intimation yet that their favorite singer was ill-disposed towards them,
and had even at times formed sullen resolutions of withdrawing
altogether from their brilliant rooms. As he quite indifferently turned
the packages and letters over, trying to guess at the name of the sender
by the address, he said to himself,
"They toss you those things out of their bounty as they fling a shilling
to a crossing-sweeper because it is Christmas-day."
But here was one that he opened, recognizing the handwriting of his
cousin Francie; and Francie had sent him a very pretty pair of blue
velvet slippers, with his initials worked by herself in thread of gold.
That was all right, for he had got for Miss Francie a little present
that he was about to take down with him--a hand-bag in green lizard-skin
that might be useful to her when she was going on her numerous errands.
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