"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. Mrs. Brown knew better than to send in the porridge with the gong on Christmas morning. Instead, the table was heaped with parcels, a goodly pile by every plate.
"What an abominable litter!" said Mr. Linton, affecting displeasure. "Norah, kindly oblige me by getting those things out of your way. How are you going to eat breakfast?"
"You're as bad as I am, Daddy!"
"Dear me!" said her father. "I seem to be. Well, yours is decidedly the most untidy, so you had better begin."
They watched the eager face as Norah turned to her bundles. Books from Cecil and his mother; warm slippers made by Brownie; a halter exquisitely plaited from finest strips of hide by Murty O'Toole, the sight of which brought the whole gathering to Norah's side; from Wally a quaint little bronze inkstand, and from Jim the daintiest horse rug that Melbourne could produce, made to fit Bobs, with a big scarlet B in one corner, and Norah's monogram in the other. "Not that he needs it just now," Jim explained, as Norah hugged him—"but a store's no sore, as Brownie'd say!" Last, a tiny velvet case, which concealed a brooch—a thin bar of gold with one beautiful pearl. Norah did not need the slip of paper under it to know it came from Dad.
Then things became merry, and even Cecil warmed at the gifts on his plate, while the boys were exclaiming in delight over Norah's knitting, and Wally was shaking hands with Mr. Linton and looking half-shamefacedly at the plain gold sleeve links from him and the silver watch chain from Jim; and Mr. Linton's face was alight with pleasure at the waistcoat Norah had made for him, and the little oak bookshelf for his bedside that was the work of Jim's spare hours. Finally all the bundles were unwrapped, and there was a lull, though Norah's eyes were still dancing, and she exchanged glances with her father.