to her bundles. Books from
Cecil and his mother; warm slippers made by Brownie; a halter
exquisitely plaited from finest strips of hide by Murty O'Toole, the
sight of which brought the whole gathering to Norah's side; from Wally
a quaint little bronze inkstand, and from Jim the daintiest horse rug
that Melbourne could produce, made to fit Bobs, with a big scarlet B in
one corner, and Norah's monogram in the other. "Not that he needs it
just now," Jim explained, as Norah hugged him--"but a store's no sore,
as Brownie'd say!" Last, a tiny velvet case, which concealed a brooch--a
thin bar of gold with one beautiful pearl. Norah did not need the slip
of paper under it to know it came from Dad.

Then things became merry, and even Cecil warmed at the gifts on his
plate, while the boys were exclaiming in delight over Norah's knitting,
and Wally was shaking hands with Mr. Linton and looking
half-shamefacedly at the plain gold sleeve links from him and the
silver watch chain from Jim; and Mr. Linton's face was alight with
pleasure at the waistcoat Norah had made for him, and the little oak
bookshelf for his bedside that was the work of Jim's spare hours.
Finally all the bundles were unwrapped, and there was a lull, though
Norah's eyes were still dancing, and she exchanged glances with her
father.

Jim spoke.

"There's a string under my plate," said he, faintly puzzled. "At least,
there's one end."

"Strings always have two ends," said Wally, wisely. "Where's the
other?"

"I'm blessed if I know," said Jim. "It goes down to the floor."

Wally came round, investigating.

"Seems to me it goes out of the window," he said. "Guess you'd better
follow it, Jimmy."

Jim looked round, a little doubtful. Then he saw Norah's face, and knew
that there was something he did not understand. He laughed a little.

"Some one pulling my leg?" he asked, good-humouredly. "Oh, well, I'll
chase it."

The string went somewhere--that was evident. Outside it was at the
height of Jim's hand, and ran along the wall, so that it was easy to
follow. They trooped after him as he went along, Norah completely
unable to walk steadily, but progressing principally on one foot, while
David Linton's eyes were twinkling. The chase was not a long one; the
string suddenly cut across to the door in the high fence dividing the
front and back gardens, and there disappeared.

"What next?" said Jim.

"If it was me," said Wally, with a fine disregard of grammar