“I sincerely trust not,” said Mr. Linton, appalled at the thought of awaiting two feminine toilettes of a greater magnificence than was familiar to him with his daughter. “Not if you have big coats—I’ve a motor outside. Your heavy luggage has gone, I believe.”
“Yes, it went by carrier,” said Norah, happily. “All right, Daddy, we’ll be back in five minutes. Come on, Jean!” They disappeared, to re-emerge presently, muffled in heavy blue coats and wearing sailor hats. Farewells hurtled through the air.
“Good-bye, Miss Winter. Merry Christmas!”
“Good-bye, Carrots, dear!” This to the red-haired singer, who accepted the greeting and the appellation cheerfully.
“Good-bye, young Norah. Behave yourself, if you can. But you can’t!”
“Good-bye, Jean!”
“Good-bye, every one. Mind you all come back!”
“Good-bye!”
“Merry Christmas!”
“Good-bye, school!” The note of utter thankfulness in Norah’s voice brought a twinkle to Jim’s eyes.