"Oh, we've got everything that was on the list, only these little extras were just to amuse ourselves." "Six stocks! you extravagant boy!" Martine, arriving on the scene, had opened one of her brother's parcels. "Six stocks!" he repeated. "Why, that's only one and a half apiece!" "And gloves; well, we could have waited until we reached Halifax. They are probably better there. I wish I had thought to speak of shirt waists," continued Martine. "This is hardly respectable." "Oh, I thought of that, too," replied Lucian; "at least, I remembered you hadn't a coat, so I supposed some sort of a wrap would do. Coats have to be kind of tailor-made and fitted, don't they?" While he spoke Lucian was undoing the largest package, from which he drew out a Scotch shawl of brown and yellow plaid. "There, that's the thing!" he exclaimed with pride. "It looks as if it had come straight from Edinburgh. You can throw it over your shoulders instead of a coat." "Oh, Lucian," cried Martine, "you can't expect me to wrap myself up like that, especially on a warm August afternoon!" "Why shouldn't it be all right travelling?" asked Lucian, with less elation. "You wouldn't have to think about the fit." But when he saw that all the others were laughing at him, he walked off toward the window, murmuring what sounded like "There's no pleasing some people." "Come back, come back," cried Martine, as he turned away; "the shawl will be very useful if we go yachting at Halifax, and no one but you would have thought of these delicious boxes of chocolates. We all thank you very, very much; see, there's a box for you and Priscilla, Amy, as well as for me." Lucian's face brightened under his sister's praise, while Amy and Priscilla thanked him for their chocolates. "You were dreadfully worried, weren't you, Prissie," said Martine, mischievously, "over the chocolates that I offered you last evening? But though Lucian was the giver in that case, perhaps you will enjoy these better, knowing where they came from." "Shall I put this magazine in your bag?" asked Priscilla, hoping thus to divert Martine from further teasing. "Certainly," replied Martine. "Let Lucian help you with the catch. It is hard to open." "The magazines are Fritz's contribution," explained Lucian, as he worked with the spring of Martine's bag. "There's one for each of the party. But hello, what's this? Did you think of digging a grave, or anything of that kind, sister, when you brought this along? It's a strange thing to have saved from a fire;" and before Martine could protest Lucian had withdrawn his hand from the bag in which he had been fumbling, and before the gaze of the whole party held up a queerly shaped little trowel. "I didn't ask you to meddle with things in my bag," cried Martine, excitedly, after the manner of sisters. "Well, what's the matter with the little spade?" asked Lucian, looking from one to the other.