“The mystery’s a tame one, you’ll think,” he said. “I thought of my plan before I left home—old Brownie has been knitting a big bundle for the Children’s Hospital, and she gave me the things to bring down. Then there’s a letter in this paper about the hospital. It’s getting near Christmas, you see; and I don’t suppose those little sick youngsters have much of a good time. Would you all think it a very slow sort of entertainment if we went to see them?” He looked round the four young faces—a little afraid of seeing their eagerness die out.
But Wally smiled broadly, leaning forward.
“I think it’s a ripping idea, sir,” he said. “I guess we all like kids, don’t we, chaps?”
The “chaps,” who evidently included the ladies of the party, assented with enthusiasm.
“Tell us more, Dad,” Norah said, “I know you’ve more plan.”
“Well—I’m open to suggestions,” her father answered. “We won’t go empty-handed; we can take up toys and books and things. It isn’t visiting day at the hospital. In any case, I think it would be better not to go at a crowded time. If I telephone to the Matron, I fancy she will let us come; and she can tell me something about the number of children. I—I’m a shocking bad hand at preaching, you know”—he hesitated, gaining encouragement from their friendly faces—“but—well, we’re looking out for a pretty good time ourselves, and it wouldn’t hurt us to share some of it.”
“But I think it will be tremendous fun, won’t it, Jean?” Norah said. To which Jean nodded vigorous acquiescence.
“Then we’ll get it done at once,” said Mr. Linton. “You can put your four wise heads together, and consult as to what we’re to take up—I don’t know what sick youngsters like.”
“That’s half the fun,” said Norah, happily. “Isn’t it, Jean?” And Jean nodded.
“Then I’ll go and telephone,” said the squatter; “by which time you hungry people may have finished breakfast—unless you mean to make this meal run into lunch, as doesn’t seem unlikely!” He made his escape, Norah regretting deeply that hotel etiquette prevented her from reprisals.