Andrew Lycett, Rudyard Kipling
(London : Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1999), p. 49:
In early December the Kiplings moved back to a foggy, wintry London where they found rooms on the Brompton Road, in a pleasant flat-fronted cottage owned by a bewhiskered ex-butler and his wife. Rudyard and Trix used to amuse themselves by wrapping useless objects in neat parcels and leaving them on the pavement outside the house. From a window, they watched as respectable citizens would spy a promising-looking bundle, look surreptitiously left and right, and pocket it as a Christmas gift.