Harling accepted the knock much as a kitten might have accepted a caress.
"Just for that I've half a mind not to tell you the rest of what I came for," grinned he. "I've something else to say that will set your hair on end. But you're that rude that you don't deserve to be told it."
"Oh, what is it, Hal?" Mary cried.
"Another secret!" Tim ejaculated.
"It isn't exactly a secret," Hal said. "It's a clue."
"A clue! To what, for pity's sake?" Carl murmured.
"You are thick, to-night—no mistake!" laughed Hal. "Why, what have we been arguing over all day—twisting and turning this way and that? What have we been speculating over until our brains are weak? Tell me that?"
"You haven't a clue about the Christmas baskets!" gasped Mrs. McGregor.
"I've a theory," nodded Hal, with tantalizing solemnity.
"Tell us! Tell us!" cried a chorus of voices.