ll think I have been waylaid and my watch
stolen. So long, everybody, and pleasant dreams." Then thrusting his
face back into the room through the narrowing crack of the door, he
added with elfish leer, "Just the same, I still think that Coulter had
something to do with those baskets."

Before a protest could be raised the door banged and he was gone.

CHAPTER XIII

HAL REPEATS HIS VISIT

Whoever the mysterious Mr. X was he succeeded in keeping his identity a
secret much better than did the donors of the O'Dowd's Christmas
dinner. A secret when shared by too many becomes no secret at all and
so, alas, it proved in this case. And yet no deliberate prattling
divulged the story. Its betrayal was purely accidental.

On the morning following the holiday, which, by the way, chanced to be
Sunday, Mrs. O'Dowd came up to borrow the McGregor's can opener. In
Mulberry Court somebody was always borrowing. An inventory of each
family's possessions gradually became public property, so that all the
neighbors knew exactly where to turn for anything needed. In fact, the
residents of the house so planned their purchases that they would not
overlap what the dwelling already contained. Nobody thought, for
example, of buying a washing machine since the Murphys had one; nor did
any one see cause for investing in a wringer, when a perfectly good one
was owned by the McGregors. Even such small things as egg beaters,
double boilers, and ice picks, all had an established place of
residence and were used in a community spirit. All day long from
morning until night little boys and girls trailed up and down the long
flights of stairs either to borrow or to return to their rightful
owners articles that had been a-visiting. It almost required a card
catalogue to keep track of where one's things were.

"Do you know who has the egg beater?" Mrs. McGregor would interrogate
on a baking day.

And some of the children whose function it was to procure or carry
hence the egg beater generally recalled its whereabouts.

"It's down to Murphys', Ma," Martin would shout. "Don't you remember
that Thursday she was making custard?"

Oh, yes; Mrs. McGregor did recollect. It flashed into her mind at the
time that with eggs so high the Murphys might well do without custard.
Nevertheless, she had not said so. One did not venture to criticize
one's neighbors--even if the gossip connected with the various
borrowings did entail first-hand information con