"He's gone to Ashvale on business," answered Mrs. Ormond. "He won't be back before this evening."
"There's no football this afternoon, is there, Brian?" asked Guy.
"No practice game," was the answer. "There's a second-eleven match, but I don't think I shall go to the field. It's too cold to stand doing nothing."
"Then look here," continued Guy, "I'll tell you what well do; we'll make a target, and try my air-pistol. I know where there's a piece of board that'll do, and we can mark it out with rings and a bull's-eye with your compasses."
"By the way, Guy," said Mrs. Ormond suddenly, "I knew there was something I wanted to speak to you about. You remember the cork that was inside Uncle Roger's box? Well, I've found where it came from."
There was an exclamation of interest from the two girls as they raised their heads to listen.
"Have you, mother?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Ormond, with a half-smile on her face. "It came out of cook's methylated spirit bottle. You may remember that some little time ago she found it standing empty."
"But how could the cork have got into the box?" cried Ida.