“She’s up to no good,” said Emmeline vaguely.

Inside the shop the purchase of the doll had been decided on.

“It’s a beautiful doll, and Bertha will be delighted with it,” asserted the mother of Victor loudly.

“Oh, very well,” said Victor sulkily; “you needn’t have it stuck into a box and wait an hour while it’s being done up into a parcel. I’ll take it as it is, and we can go round to Manchester Square and give it to Bertha, and get the thing done with. That will save me the trouble of writing: ‘For dear Bertha, with Victor’s love,’ on a bit of paper.”

“Very well,” said his mother, “we can go to Manchester Square on our way home. You must wish her many happy returns of tomorrow, and give her the doll.”

“I won’t let the little beast kiss me,” stipulated Victor.