not green! For Lee Wing!"

"There weren't any other colours left," said Jim; "next year it would
have had to be pale blue! He took it with a heavenly smile, and looked
at it all over inside and out; then he looked down at his feet, and I
beheld his toe sticking out of his boot. He didn't say 'Thank you' at
all. What he did say was 'Nex'-Clis'mas-socks,' all in one word, and
you couldn't have widened his smile without shifting his ears further
back!"

"Merry Christmas, Norah, asthore!" said a cheerful voice, and Norah
turned to greet Wally. So Wally had to hear the story of Lee Wing all
over again, and they were laughing over it when Mr. Linton came out on
the verandah, pausing in the doorway a moment to look at the slender
figure in the blue frock, with white collar and tie, and the tall lads
in white flannels beside her.

Three greetings flashed at him simultaneously as he came into view.

"Merry Christmas, every one!" he said, one hand on his small daughter's
shoulder. "Going to be a hot Christmas, too, I believe. Where's Cecil?"

"Coming," said that gentleman, exchanging good wishes with a languid
air. "Sorry to be late, but I couldn't open the bathroom door."

Wally started.

"Good gracious, was it you in there?" he asked anxiously. "I thought it
was Norah--and we wanted her out of the way at the moment, so I
barricaded the door! Then I saw her afterwards, so I reckoned she'd got
out all right, and I never bothered to take down the barricade. I'm
awfully sorry!"

Every one laughed but Cecil, who saw nothing humorous in having been
obliged to climb through the bathroom window, and said so with point.

"I'm a fearful ass, truly," said Wally, with contrition. "Norah, you've
no need to laugh like a hyena--you ought to have been there, if you
weren't!"

"That's why I laugh," Norah explained kindly. "Never mind, it's
Christmas--and there's breakfast!"

It was the gong, but not breakfast. Mrs. Brown knew better than to send
in the porridge with the gong on Christmas morning. Instead, the table
was heaped with parcels, a goodly pile by every plate.

"What an abominable litter!" said Mr. Linton, affecting displeasure.
"Norah, kindly oblige me by getting those things out of your way. How
are you going to eat breakfast?"

"You're as bad as I am, Daddy!"

"Dear me!" said her father. "I seem to be. Well, yours is decidedly the
most untidy, so you had better begin."

They watched the eager face as Norah turned