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.
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