He was blotting it as his daughters entered.
"Come here, my pretty cubs." He held out the envelope.

"I want you, Kit, to open this on December thirty-first, at midnight.

Girls like mysteries, and if you opened it any time but midnight it wouldn't be mysterious.

Indeed, I shall probably have you both on the arms of my chair when you open it." "Is it about the medal ?" demanded Winnie.
"By George, Kit, the child is beginning to reason out things," he jested.
Winnie laughed, and so did Kathlyn, but she did so because occultly she felt that her father expected her to laugh.

She was positively uncanny sometimes in her perspicacity.
"On December thirty-first, at midnight," she repeated.