, "I should
open the door."

"Good for you, Wally," grinned Jim. "Here goes!" He flung the door
open, and then stood as if rooted to the spot.

The string went on. It ended, however, just through the door, where its
end was spliced to a halter, held by black Billy, whose smile disclosed
every tooth in his head. Fidgeting in the halter was a big bay horse,
showing all Monarch's quality, and all his good looks; a show ring
horse, picked by a keen judge, and built for speed as well as strength.
He looked at Jim with a kind eye, set well in his beautiful head. There
was no flaw in him; from his heels to his fine, straight forelock he
was perfection.

Jim had no words. He did not need to be told anything--Norah's face had
been enough; but he could not speak. He took refuge with the big bay,
moving forward and putting out a hand, to which the horse responded
instantly, rubbing his head against him in friendly fashion. Then,
across the arched neck, Jim's eyes met his father's, and the colour
flooded into his brown face.

"Well, old son--will he do?"

"Do!" said Jim, weakly. "Dad!--by Jove, I--I--" He stopped helplessly;
then his hand went out and took his father's in a grip that made David
Linton realize that this big son of his was nearly a man.

"Oh, Jimmy, I'm so glad--and isn't he lovely?"

"Why, he's perfect," Jim said, stepping back and running his eye over
his Christmas box. "My word, Dad, he'll jump!"

"Yes, he'll jump all right," said David Linton. "Gallop, too, I should
say."

"Plenty!" said Billy, with unexpected emphasis, whereat every one
laughed.

"Billy and Norah have had this little joke plotted for some time," Mr.
Linton said--"and the experiences they have undergone in keeping strings
and steed out of your way this morning have, I believe, whitened the
hair of both!"

Jim looked gratefully round.

"You're all bricks," he said. "Has he got a name, Dad?"

"'A tearin' foine wan,' Murty says," responded his father; "since it's
Irish: Garryowen, unless you'd like to change it."

"Not me!" said Jim. "I like it." He looked round as the sound of the
gong came across the garden. "I say, don't mind me," he said--"go into
breakfast. I don't want any this morning." His eye went back to the
bay.

"Rubbish!" said his father--"he'll be alive after breakfast! Come
along," and reluctantly Jim saw Billy lead his horse away to the
stable. He discovered, however, on reaching the breakfast room, that he
was