least. Look at the size of them. Now I see why the old lady kept that cutting about pearls being a good investment. She must have realized all her securities and turned them into notes and jewels.”
“Oh! Tommy, isn’t it wonderful? Darling Monica. Now she can marry her nice young man and live happily ever afterwards, like me.”
“That’s rather sweet of you, Tuppence. So you are happy with me?”
“As a matter of fact,” said Tuppence, “I am. But I didn’t mean to say so. It slipped out. What with being excited, and Christmas Eve, and one thing and another—”
“If you really love me,” said Tommy, “will you answer me one question?”
“I hate these catches,” said Tuppence. “But—well—all right.”
“Then how did you know that Monica was a clergyman’s daughter?”
“Oh, that was just cheating,” said Tuppence happily. “I opened her letter making an appointment, and a Mr. Deane was Father’s curate once and he had a little girl called Monica, about four or five years younger than me. So I put two and two together.”
“You are a shameless creature,” said Tommy. “Hullo, there’s twelve o’clock striking. Happy Christmas, Tuppence.”
“Happy Christmas, Tommy. It’ll be a Happy Christmas for Monica too—and all owing to us. I am glad. Poor thing, she has been so miserable. Do you know, Tommy, I feel all queer and choky about the throat when I think of it.”
“Darling Tuppence,” said Tommy.
“Darling Tommy,” said Tuppence. “How awfully sentimental we are getting.”