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At eleven o'clock the mail came in, and mother sorted it over, while father took a gold piece out to the post-man. There were about a million cards, and mother glanced at the addresses and passed them round. But suddenly she frowned. There was a small parcel, addressed to me. "This looks like a Gift, Barbara," she said. And proceded to open it. My heart skipped two beats, and then hamered.
This morning I warned the new Chauffeur, feeling that if he had by chance any Milatary Secrets in the Garage he should know about William. "William!" he said, looking up from where he was in the Repair Pit at the time. "I am sorry, Henry," I said, in a quiet voice. "But I fear that William is not what he apears to be." "I think you must be mistaken, miss." He then hamered for some time.
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