A NOBBLY PARCEL

Evening Post, Volume CXI, Issue 132, 6 June 1931, Page 18

A NOBBLY PARCEL

Down the road, around the corners, golden curls flying behind, brown eyes pools- of delight, ran Peter. tn his hand, held tightly by a string, was a nobbly parcel. It was Billy 't birth day to-day, and this was his present. Peter rehearsed to himself vvhal he had to say: "Dear Billy, many happy weturns of the day fwoui your dear friend Peter." Faster and taster he ran; nearer and nearer to Billy's house. Up the lane he went, where pink and white rose* leanl over the fence to kiss his head caressingly, and where fallen leaves rustled beneath his feet. Now, with nervous lingers, he was undoing the latch of the gate. Two sturdy little logs hurrying up the red cobbled path where on either side marigolds flaunted their golden beauty. . . , Fast the vegetable garden and now—now knock ing at the door, Billy's mother answered: "Is Billy in?" Peter asked breathlessly. "Yes. Peter boy. Go right through." She suddenly stooped and kissed the. golden head. Right through went Peter, taking no notice of the cool beauty of the room, till he was at Billy's room door. Then, with a Snal rehearsing of his speech, he went in. On a chair by the window was Billy Peter held out his two hands,

"Many happy weturns ." H.1 stopped short. No nobbly parcel hung there, only the string. "It's gone!'' Brown eyes before aglow with joy trembled on the verge of tears. Billy, with the superiority of bpinn six said, "Don't cry. We'll go an.l find it," Sturdy legs, this time walking, so slow. Down the red cobbled path, down the lane where the roses scrambled and the leaves rustled, down the road and around the corners . . but no uotibly parcel to greet thorn. "We'll look in your place," said Billy. "It might be there"—and there they found it. Two heads bent eagerly over it, one a cluster of golden curls, the other wavy dark hair. Two pairs of little hands reached for it, and one small boy rehearsed what he hud to say "Many happy returns of the day —I hope you like it." A pair of small brown hands opened the parcel, and there was a fine pair of horse-reins. The piece for the front had golden bells across its red splendour. "You can be the horse, Billy." Away they went once more. The roses kissed their heads; once more the marigolds flaunted their beauty! and at last two little hoys stood on the doorstep, shouting, "We've found it! We've found it!" "CAPTAIN PEGGY" (13). Lyall Bay.