"Just as you like, my dear. Take her some bonbons if you prefer it. Wait! One moment, Clifford. Bertha hates sweets. She never touches them." "It doesn't matter," he answered. "I do." CHAPTER XI A DISCOVERY "Come in, old boy!" Bertha was lying on the sofa reading a large book. She didn't put down either her little feet or the book when her young brother-in-law came in. He also had a book in his pocket, which he took out. Then he produced a box in silver paper. "For you," he remarked, and then immediately cut the blue ribbon with a penknife and proceeded to begin the demolition of the chocolates. "A present for me?" said Bertha. "Yes," he said, taking a second one rather quickly and glancing at the second row. "I'm so glad you've got me the kind you like. I hope you've got those with the burnt almonds that you're so particularly fond of?" "Oh yes, rather!" "Thanks. That was nice and thoughtful of you; I know they're your favourite sort." "Yes, they are." "And what I always think is so nice about you, Clifford," Bertha went on, "is that you're so truly thoughtful. I mean, you never forget your own tastes. You really take trouble to get yourself any little thing you like. You put yourself out." "Oh--I----" "Oh no, I'm not flattering you; I really mean it. You're such a nice thoughtful boy. I've seen you take a lot of trouble, rather than deprive yourself of anything you cared for." "Oh, Bertha!" "Are you going to stay long to-day?" "Yes, I am," said Clifford, taking up the book he had brought with him. "As long as I can." "Oh." "How long can I?" "Till dinner, or till anyone turns up that I want to talk to." "Right-o! But you can send me into another room. I needn't go home, need I?" She laughed. "Oh, you silly boy! Of course not." "I say, have you seen my report?" he asked gravely. "Some of it. Your mother read out little bits." "Which little bits?" he asked rather anxiously. "Oh, the worst of course!" said Bertha. "The purple patches! You're a credit to the family, I don't think!" "She asked me who was my nicest little friend at school," said Clifford. "And what did you say?" "I told her about Pickering. I say, Bertha, ... can I bring Pickering here?" "Of course you can." "May I give him a regular sort of invitation from you, then?" "Yes, rather. Tell him that I and Percy ask him to come and live here from to-morrow morning for the rest of his natural life. Or, if that doesn't seem cordial enough, we'll adopt him as our only son." "Oh no! I think that's too much." "Is it? Well, make it from to-morrow afternoon. Or perhaps we'd better not be effusive; it wouldn't look well. So, instead of that, I'll invite him to go to the Zoological Gardens on Sunday fortnight for an hour, and you and he can have buns and tea at your own expense there. That's not too hospitable and gushing, is it?" He laughed.