d of tissue paper, and read, "To
Grace, with love from Nora."

"Discovered!" exclaimed Hippy in hollow tones, making a dive for the
package and failing to secure it.

Nora held it above her head. "Here, Grace, it's yours," she explained.
"Don't pay any attention to that other card."

Grace had turned her attention to a large tag that was fastened to the
holly ribbon with which the package was tied. She read aloud, "To my
esteemed friend, Hippy, from his humble little admirer, Nora O'Malley."

The instant of silence was followed by a shout of laughter, in which
Nora joined. "You rascal!" she exclaimed, shaking her finger at Hippy.
"I knew you were planning mischief when you sat over there writing those
cards. Take all those presents, girls. I am sure they don't belong to
this deceitful reprobate."

Hippy at once set up a dismal wail, and clutched his packages to his
breast, dropping all but two in the process. These were snapped up by
Reddy and Nora almost before they touched the floor.

"Here's the umbrella I thought I bought for Tom," growled Reddy, as he
ripped off the simple inscription, "To Hippy, with love, Reddy."

"Yes, and here is the monogrammed stationery I ordered made for
Jessica," added Nora, glaring at the stout young man, who smiled
blithely in return as one who had received an especial favor.

"You are holding on to two of my presents, though," he reminded.

Nora made a hasty inspection of the packages, then shoved the two
presents toward him. "There they are," she said severely. "If I had
known how badly you were going to behave, I wouldn't have given you a
thing."

"Take your scarf pin, Indian giver," jeered Hippy, holding out a small
package, then jerking it back again.

"How do you know it's a scarf pin?" inquired Nora.

"My intuition tells me, my child," returned Hippy gently.

"Then your intuition is all wrong," declared Nora O'Malley disdainfully.

"Always ready to argue," sighed Hippy.

"Mrs. Gray, I appeal to you, don't allow Hippy and Nora to start an
argument. There won't be either time or chance for anything else."

"Hippy and Nora, be good children," laughingly admonished the sprightly
old lady.

"Look out for Hippy's cards," David cautioned Mr. Harlowe.

The rest of the gifts were distributed without accident, and then by
common consent a great unwrapping began, accompanied by rapturous "ohs,"
and plenty of "thank yous."

It was almost one o'clock on Christmas morning