"Here's Beatty's," said the boy; "I chose it. The one with the shrimp on it. It says, 'At Breezy Brightbourne. From one giddy young shrimp to another.' Jolly clever, isn't it? And this is for Mr. Hatton, because he's so fond of beer. You see there's a glass of beer, and it says underneath, 'Come where the girls are bright and the tonic's all right.' There was another one with a bottle called 'The Spirit of Brightbourne,' but we thought beer was best." "What about Uncle?" the mother asked. "Oh!" said the girl, "there's a lovely one for him. Three men on their hands and knees licking up the whisky spilt from broken bottles." "Good Heavens!" said the father, "you can't send him that." "I think not," said the mother. "If you sent Uncle that, all the fat would be in the fire." "It's very funny," said the boy. "Funny, yes," said the father. "But funniness can be very dangerous. Good Heavens!" and he mopped his brow, "you gave me quite a turn." "Very well, who shall we give it to?" the boy asked. "We mustn't waste it." "I don't care who has it so long as it's not your Uncle," said the father. "And what have you got for your Aunt Tilly?" "This one," said the girl. "An old maid looking under the bed for a man and hoping she'll find one." "Goodness, Maria!" said the father, "are your children mad? The idea of sending such a thing to Tilly!" "But she is an old maid," said the girl. "Of course she is," said the father. "That's the mischief." "Well, there's rather a good one where a wife is going through her husband's trousers and saying, 'Brightbourne's the place for change,'" said the girl. "Would that suit?" "Of course not," snapped her father. "Or the one where the bed is full of fleas?" the boy suggested. "No jokes about fleas," said the father sternly. "No, you must change those for something else. Don't be funny at all with either your Uncle or Aunt. We can't run any risks. Send them local views--coloured ones, of course, but strictly local." "Mr. Gates helped us," said the boy meanly. "Mr. Gates doesn't know all the facts," said the father. "He can guess one or two of them," said Mr. Gates, jingling his pocket. "Fred is so quick," said his admiring wife. "Well, and what are the others?" the mother asked. "There's Mr. Brown and Mrs. Venning. Why shouldn't Mr. Brown have the whisky one? I'm sure he'd laugh. But you couldn't send Mrs. Venning the old maid." "We got this for Mr. Brown," said the boy. "The nurse bringing the father twins and calling them two 'pink forms.'" "That's dashed good," said Mr. Gates, "don't you think?" "Very smart," said the father. "That's all right. And what about Mrs. Venning?" "Well," said the girl, "we thought she'd like this one--a man and a woman kissing in a tunnel, and he says the tunnel cost ten thousand pounds to make, and she says it's worth it, every penny."