lept as only an active, tired out boy can sleep.
If he woke once he had no recollection of it in the morning.

This, too, despite the fact that it was Christmas, and he had all of a
boy's natural desire to know what the day was to bring him.

Rat-tat-tat! sounded Mrs. Prescott's soft fist on Dick's bedroom door
that morning.

"Wake up, son!" Mrs. Prescott called for the second time.

"I--I'm awake," gasped Dick sleepily.

"Get up, then, son. Have you forgotten that this is Christmas?"

"No'm; I haven't." Dick's feet struck the floor heavily, and he reached
out for his clothing. "Merry Christmas, mother! Is dad there?"

"He's out in the kitchen, raking the fire. Don't you hear him?"

"Yes'm. Say, mother, have you seen your presents yet?"

"I found a handsome gold chain from your father on my bureau."

"Was that all you found?"

"Yes."

"Where did you look?" chuckled Dick.

"Why, on the parlor table, as usual, to be sure."

"Better look again, mother," laughed Dick.

By this time he was nearly dressed. He heard Mrs. Prescott going back
into the parlor.

"I don't find anything else here for me," Mrs. Prescott called back in a
puzzled voice.

"Mother, at this rate, you'll soon be needing specs," called Dick,
throwing open his bedroom door and looking out.

"But I don't see anything else for me, Richard," insisted his mother, as
the boy entered the parlor.

"Look again, mother. Surely, you----"

Then Dick halted suddenly, staring hard at the table, and at the mantel
beyond.

"Why, I left----" he began, and then looked more puzzled. At last he
grinned as the solution of the mystery came into his mind.

"It's just one of dad's jokes," he laughed. "Or else dad forgot. I gave
it to him last night, to lay on the table after you had gone to bed. You
see, mother, this is the first Christmas that I have had money of my own
with which to buy you something really nice. I'll ask dad where it is."

"Who's taking my name in vain?" called Mr. Prescott, as he came through
the hallway and looked in the parlor. "Merry Christmas, Dick."

"Same to you, sir. But, say, what happened to that little package I
handed you for mother?"

"I put it on the table before retiring last night," replied Mr.
Prescott. "It must be there--but it isn't, is it?"

"Honest, now, dad, this isn't a joke, is it?"

"Not on my part, anyway," replied the elder Prescott rather blankly.

"Now, I suppose that you're both playing a little j