y, I don't have to know. It's
your scrape, Dick Prescott!"

"Yours, too, Dave Darrin!"

"What do you mean?"

"Why, I saw Belle buying some of that yarny stuff, too."

"Great Scott!" groaned Dave. "Say, what do you suppose they're
planning to put up on us for a Christmas job? Some of those
big-as-all-outdoors, wobbly, crocheted slippers?"

CHAPTER VIII

HUH? WOOLLY CROCHETED SLIPPERS

The night before Christmas Dick Prescott attended a ball, in his
new capacity of reporter.

Being young, also "green" in the ways of newspaper work, he imagined
it his duty to remain rather late in order to be sure that he
had all the needed data for the brief description that he was
to write for "The Blade."

Christmas morning the boy slept late, for his parents did not
call him. When, at last, Dick did appear in the dining room he
found some pleasing gifts from his father and mother. When he
had sufficiently examined them, Mrs. Prescott smiled as she said:

"Now, step into the parlor, Richard, and you'll find something
that came for you this morning."

"But, first of all, mother, I've something for you and Dad."

Dick went back into his room, bringing out, with some pride, a
silver-plated teapot on a tray of the same material. It wasn't
much, but it was the finest gift he had ever been able to make
his parents. He came in for a good deal of thanks and other words
of appreciation.

"But you're forgetting the package in the parlor," persisted Mrs.
Prescott presently.

Dick nodded, and hurried in, thinking to himself:

"The worsted slippers from the girls, I suppose."

To his surprise the boy found Dave Darrin sitting in the room,
while, on a chair near by rested a rather bulky package.

After exchanging "Merry Christmas" greetings with Darrin, Dick
turned to look at the package. To it was tied a card, which read:

"From Laura Bentley and Isabelle Meade, with kindest Christmas
greetings."

"That doesn't look like slippers, Dave," murmured Dick, as he
pulled away the cord that bound the package.

"I'll bet you're getting a duplicate of what came to me," Darrin
answered.

"What was that?"

"I'm not going to tell you until I see yours."

Dick quickly had the wrapper off, unfolding something woolleny.

"That's it!" cried Dave, jubilantly. "I thought so. Mine was
the same, except that Belle's name was ahead of Laura's on the
card."

Dick felt almost dazed for an instant. Then a quick rush of