"You look quite gay!" said his wife as she greeted him on his return,
her pretty oval face, with its large dark eyes and dark curly locks,
held up to be kissed. "Has anything nice happened?"
"You look gay, too!" he evaded laughingly, as his arms lingered round
her. Clytie was always a satisfactory person for a wife. "What's this
pink stuff on your hair--popcorn?"
"Oh, goodness! Baby has been so bad, she has been throwing it round
everywhere," she answered, running ahead of him upstairs to a room that
presented a scene of brilliant disorder.
On the bed was a large box of tinselled Christmas-tree decorations and
another of pink-and-white popcorn--the flotsam and jetsam of which
strewed the counterpane and the floor to its farthest corners, mingled
with scraps of glittering paper, an acreage of which surrounded a table
in the centre of the room that was adorned with mucilage pot and
scissors. A large feathered hat, a blue silk dress, and a flowered skirt
were on the rug, near which a very plump child of three, with straggling
yellow hair, was trying to get a piece of gilt paper off her shoe.
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