"Afraid I can’t stay long—" "Why not?" demanded the Atom. "Er—I’ve got to get back—" "I hoped you had come early so that you could stay a little while," said Nell. "Oh, I say, did I come round too early?" "Ted, don’t be a goose!" "Friend, do not put such a horribly inhospitable construction—" began Denis. "How much?" interrupted Ted. "Come on!" cried Denis, doubling his fists. "You have insulted me! _À outrance_!" "When you’re quite finished, Mr. Lancaster," called out Nell, "perhaps you’ll condescend to look at this box!" He gave a final thrust and turned to her. "It is made of bog oak, and carved by a friend of ours—" "Was that the postman?" exclaimed the Atom, and scuttled out of the room. No one heard her save Ted. "Isn’t it a glorious design? Do you see how—" "I—I must go! Awfully sorry! Good-bye!" They stared after him in astonishment, then started in pursuit. In the hall they caught him. He was standing looking rather red and foolish, talking to the Atom. Denis seized him by his collar. "Search him! Search him!" "Don’t ass, O.B.!" "Why did you run away like that?" queried Molly eagerly. "If it weren’t Christmas morning, I should be deciding to be offended," Nell declared. "I’m awfully sorry. I’ve to go to my aunt’s, you know." "Aren’t you in rather a sudden complexity of hurry?" Denis inquired. "That’s a favourite remark of an old Irishwoman I know!" "I am rather, old chap! Er—so sorry—" "Here comes the postman!" squealed Molly, flinging open the door. Ted hurled himself through it, leapt down the steps, and with a vague flourish of his hat turned to the left and disappeared. The postman laughed as he handed package after package, letter after letter, into various eager hands outstretched for them. "You’ll lighten my load a good deal, sir!" "Happy Christmas, postman!" "Same to you, miss." "To the Stronghold!" went forth the cry, and up they swarmed, all heavily laden, K.K. gravely bringing up the rear with a parcel someone had dropped. Everything was tilted on to the table, and then each one pounced on various parcels—tearing of paper, cutting of string, noise, delight, exclamations! Nell opened Ted’s parcel last of all. It was an old ivory paper knife, with a little hunting scene beautifully carved on its handle. "_Denis!_" He turned at her tone. "Isn’t it lovely, Denis?" He nodded. "He knows what’s what! It’s ripping, Nell." She was examining it delightedly. "It’s such a beautiful old thing—just look at the carving—that leg, Denis, isn’t it wonderful? And the manes and tails—" "_Do_ look what he’s sent me, Nell," cried Molly. "And me—" "Are you ready for church?" Up the stairs floated Miss Kezia’s voice. "A minute, Aunt Kezia!" There was a wild scattering and scramble. Church was a good deal of a trial: but once Nell smiled suddenly, irresistibly. A thought had struck her. She whispered to Molly, "_I_ know why he rushed off!" "Why?"