"It’s almost a pity, though," says Mr. Hartland with a laugh, "that the house is perched up so high. I tell the wife we live in a sort of eagle’s nest. Still, it suits Susie remarkably well; I must admit that." "Isn’t Susie here?" asks Dick innocently, looking round as if he had only just discovered her absence. "She’s upstairs," laughs her father, "putting on a few more fal-lals, I expect. The lasses are all alike in that respect." Dick whispers to Mrs. Hartland, at the same time slipping something into her hand, and the others smile at one another as she glides out of the room. She reappears presently, followed by a young girl, the neck of whose dress is fastened by an exquisite brooch. "O Dick!" she exclaims, running forward, "thank you very much. It is just lovely!" Dick, looking a trifle shamefaced, murmurs some reply, while Jim can hardly take his eyes from his sister’s face. He has not been at home much of late years, and he can never quite restrain a thrill of surprise on seeing the beautiful girl as she passes before him with all the grace of a young fawn. Presently, when they are all quietly seated, Dick says, with a joyous laugh,— "By the way, I have a surprise packet for you. Barton, our manager, has resigned, and Mr. Leverton has been appointed in his place. That leaves the under-manager’s berth vacant, and—" "You haven’t got it, Dick?" "How can a fellow tell his yarn if he’s interrupted in this fashion? But, just to relieve your suspense, I beg to state that the new under-manager for Sir Thomas Arkell is Mr. Richard Boden, whom his friends call Dick, and sometimes Dicky." How they laugh, and cheer, and congratulate him—almost like a parcel of school-boys! It certainly is a memorable Christmas Eve. "That partnership is decidedly drawing nearer!" laughs Jim. "I shall soon begin to look for the altered sign." He himself has not done badly. He has passed through college with flying colours, has earned the right to place "B.A. (Lond.)" after his name, and now, on returning to Beauleigh, has been appointed one of the masters at the Deanery School. They are very proud of him at home, for he has more than fulfilled their expectations, and has brought some amount of credit to the good old town. "Sometimes," he exclaims thoughtfully, "it all seems like a dream, and I pinch myself to make sure that I am awake. I little imagined, dad, when we heard of the loss of the _Morning Star_, that things would turn out like this. We have been very fortunate in finding good friends, and the best one of all, as far as I am concerned, sits here," he says, pointing to Dick. * * * * *