Adorable Jack

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

I. Jack Has Callers . 7

II. The Secret Slide. 16

Chapter I. Jack Has Callers

“Adorable one, come hither and greet thy mother. Her heart will palpitate at sight of thee. That I know,” cried excitable Annette, the old French governess, as she nervously ushered visitors into a shabby school¬ room dusky with twilight shadows.

“Adorable,” hidden away in as safe a shelter as Iris’ active brain had been able to suggest at such short notice, grinned roguishly and gave a twitch at the stiff collar that was choking him relentlessly.

“Palpitation, eh? Is he as bad as that, Annette?” chaffed a man's pleasant voice.

“Be still, Hilary,” came next in the militant tone of a woman who permitted no levity in her presence, then, sharply to Annette:

“Well, well, where is he? Get the child—we have no time for nonsense. Isn't he here ? Then why trail us up all those stairs ?”

Creak!

“Adorable” knew, even though unable to see from his hiding place, that the pompous lady had seated her¬ self on the “shakiest” chair of all the shaky lot of which the school-room boasted. And, well “Adorable” knew what had made them so insecure. Throughout all the years of his restless, little life those chairs had figured in his sports. He had put them through the ravages, of leap-frog. He had ridden them as chargers

JACK when playing cavalry officer, and he had balanced on their backs as Signor Smart Alec, the ‘‘greatest living acrobat America has ever known.”

“Adorable” covered his mouth with one grimy hand to keep back an explosive chuckle. That the lady in the creaky chair would indeed have had “palpitation” .at the sight of him, he hadn't the slightest doubt.

“Glad I hid,” he thought, gleefully. “She's worse than I thought.”

Annette's uneasiness became pitiful.

“I really know not, my Friends, where he has gone. Little Monsieur Jean is what I might say mischievous, never bad however, non-non. He has himself con¬ cealed. I know not where.”

Exasperation on the militant lady's part gave naughty “Adorable” much satisfaction, but the man good-naturedly laughed and another voice, unheard up to this point by the truant, began to whisper something which must have been interesting enough to appease the injured party's feelings, for quite unexpectedly An¬ nette and the visitors departed, closing the door de¬ cisively behind them.

“Adorable” waited with small show of patience a second or two, then wriggled out of his hiding place and shook himself like a shaggy, little dog.

He was nine, had fiery red hair, many freckles and a pair of brown eyes as twinkling as though two stars had been set in the midst of his dfoll small face.

“Yippetty!—That's over,” he gurgled joyfully as he gave a tug at his collar, and also a side leap over one of the long-suffering chairs.

“Whoop, what's that? Who are you?” he demanded with all his small boy heart in his throat, for the school¬ room was very dark now. “Adorable” had thought no person present and to stumble up against something soft and human, under such circumstances, is apt to be a bit nerve-racking.

JACK HAS CALLERS

A low, happy laugh was his answer and in spite of his squirms, his protests, and I regret to say kicks, he was gathered into a pair of tender arms and a merry voice murmured:

“Let me see if he is really Adorable or Just Mother’s naughty, noisy, beloved little son?”

And would you believe it, the rebel ceased to strug¬ gle and listened in astonishment. An astonishment so great that he had not even time to resent a kiss with a tear in it which, laughably enough, descended right on top of his smudgy, little turned-up nose.

“Mothers is nice after all,” was his ungrammatical but very wise conclusion. And now do you ask, why had Adorable never met his mother before ?

Well—that is a mystery that I have not time just at present to explain for the door of the old school¬ room has opened again very cautiously, and from the shadows in a hoarse whisper comes the signal:—

“They’ve gone, Jack, All of ’em. Come on out. Coast’s clear!”

Then the room echoed with a chuckle of unmistak¬ able glee.

“Hi, Rob!” saluted Adorable eagerly.

“Where-you-at ?” demanded the stranger.

“Here,” mumbled Jack, but though evidently anxious for the company of his chum, not making any attempt to release himself from the fetters which held him captive.

“Yes, dear. Come over near Jack and let him intro¬ duce us. Who is Rob, my darling ? Your favorite pal ?”

But Rob at the sound of an unexpected voice called out sharply:

“Who’s here? ’Sides you, I mean, Jack?”

“My Mother,” announced Adorable calmly just as though having such a cherished relation pop up quite suddenly in one’s life was nothing at all extraordinary.

“How did she get in ?” went on Rob, belligerently.

JACK

“Walked,” answered Jack tersely.

“Which of you boys can find Aladdin’s lamp for me and set the lights of this place flashing ?” the lady ques¬ tioned.

“I can,” shouted Rob, off guard in a moment.

“No, let me, I say. Let me,” screamed Jack hurling himself across the room with small consideration of life or limb.

A bump and a thud as of two small bodies colliding and falling in a heap was the next excitement, but Adorable’s mother only laughed again tenderly, as well as amusedly.

“No bones broken I am sure,” she teased merrily. “Now up and on for the switch, brave knights, for a lady waits.”

“Puff,” panted Rob.

“Uh-uh,” grunted Jack.

Hands, feet and heads seemed to clash indefinitely and then with a jerk, on went the lights and all parties stood face to face in the battered, dingy room.

A prodigious snore at this moment caused the visitor to start hastily to her feet. Both children burst out laughing.

Between gasps Adorable explained:

“Don’t be scart. It’s only old Mr. Wickets.”

“Mr. Wickets?” surprisedly. “Not asleep in your school-room, sonny dear?” There was just a touch of horror for a second in her gay voice, but extra tender¬ ness too, for she liked to think that this harem-scarem little son of hers had a tender heart for old and un¬ fortunate people.

More laughter. Shrieks of it this time. In fact, Rob collapsed in his glee upon a specimen case contain¬ ing many different kinds of bugs and beetles.

“Here he is, see him!” chuckled Adorable from the hearth-rug, endeavoring with all his strength to get a wheezy, old spaniel to his uncertain feet.

JACK HAS CALLERS

“Come on over, Wickets, and meet Mother. Come on, I say,” and the boy gave the dog’s collar an extra tug.

Most unwillingly Mr. Wickets waddled across the intervening space between himself and the company. Then he sat down very laboriously and made a sort of blind state at offering a lazy paw.

Now, Adorable’s mother liked dogs and she pene¬ trated Mr. Wickets’ dull intelligence and made him feel it.

“Good Wickets,” she said cheerily. “Shake hands, sir? Indeed, I will. Nice, nice old fellow.”

The pats administered by her soft hands, the notes of her sympathetic voice were all soothing. Mr. Wick¬ ets gave a low whine of appreciation and then dumped himself down at her feet and prepared straightway for another nap.

“He’s awful lazy,” announced Jack. “I guess it’s ’cause he’s so old.”

Rap-rap-rap-a-tat came a summons from the hall. The door of the room opened on a crack and a young, eager voice called:

“Mumpie, please may I come now ? Please!”

A rapid change swept over both boys’ faces.

“It’s a girl,” growled Rob.

Jack dropped down on hands and knees and scuttled off under the table.

“Yes, come dear, but I am sorry to say you seem a very unwelcome guest,” answered the lady quietly.

Instantly, into the room danced on the tips of her toes a delightfully jolly-looking little girl of about eleven years of age.

“Oh, Mumpie, where is he? Where’s Jack?” she de¬ manded in a most crest-fallen tone of voice, for at her entrance Rob, too, had made a hasty disappearance and only Mrs. Wayne and Mr. Wickets held the floor as re¬ ception committee.

JACK

As the unwelcome guest stood uncertainly in the centre of the room, disappointment plainly written on every feature, Mrs. Wayne rose and evidently address¬ ing vague shadows in the far off corners of the room said pleasantly:

“This little girl is Jacqueline, Jack's sister. She is going to make friends with you by her own efforts.” Then to the little girl—“Two boys are hidden some¬ where in this room. Find them dear, and then discover if you can which one is your brother. I must leave you all for a while, but when you hear a bell ring come to me for I will need you.”

While speaking Mrs. Wayne moved across the room to the door.

“Goody!” exclaimed Jacqueline clapping her hands merrily. “I'll find them, Mumpie. Ready or not they must be caught.”

As Mrs. Wayne hurried along the shadowy hall out¬ side the school-room she suddenly found herself way¬ laid by a small highway man. The sturdy arms went around her convulsively and in a choky whisper Ador¬ able's voice pleaded:

“Don't go away—please, please don't. I thought you came to stay. Oh, don't go. Don't.”

His mother's heart gave one wild, glad leap almost up into her throat as she confided to him afterwards, but she seemed quite calm as she laid tender hands on his shoulders and asked him very simply:

“Do you want me to stay so very much, little son ?"

“Yes, yes,” he nodded, gripping her more firmly with small arms that became almost like iron bands. “Didn’t want you 'tall first but I do now. Will you stay, huh ? Please ?” His brown eyes were as soft, as wor¬ shipful, as appealing, as some baby angel's.

Mrs. Wayne with a sweet, low, happy laugh caught him up in her arms and hugged him tenderly. She

JACK HAS CALLERS kissed him too, an alarming number of times for a boy of Jack’s fixed ideas on that subject to submit to so quietly. And then, she said swiftly:

“Come with me, Sonny. Hurry dear.”

Down the stair-case they went together, her soft hand still holding his in tight, warm clasp. In the spacious lower hall a respectful man-servant ap¬ proached them.

“Madam, Sir Gilbert said to conduct you to the draw¬ ing-room. They all await you there. This way if you please.”

Side by side, Mother and son followed in the wake of the grave-faced butler. Once she looked down at Adorable. His droll, freckled face bore traces of candy, of jelly, of dust and other things equally detrimental to beauty of countenance but “The light that never was on sea or land” was in his brown eyes and a smile of abso¬ lute joy curled up the corners of his roguish mouth.

Just before they entered the room, the door of which was then opened by the butler and from which came the sound of many voices evidently engaged in heated argument, Mrs. Wayne stooped over Adorable and asked him anxiously:

“You meant it didn’t you, my little son? You want me with you dear, don’t you?”

“Yep,” whispered back Jack decidedly.

Something was in the air around the child that filled him with strange excitement, but excitement of a sup¬ pressed sort. Jack was not usually so subdued.

“Mrs. Wayne and Master Jack,” called out the but¬ ler in stentorian notes, and then Jack walked into the spacious room which hitherto he had visited only by stealth. He knew some of the people present quite well, one or two of them he liked in off hand, boy fash¬ ion, for instance, Annette his governess and Mr. Bob

JACK his guardian’s clerk. Even at this solemn moment Mr. Bob winked at him according to pal code, and then buried his head instantly in his work once more. Mr. Bob was seated at a large table writing busily.

Sir Gilbert, Adorable’s guardian, rose as Mrs. Wayne and the boy entered. He was a tall, old gentleman with sharp, dark eyes and a stern face.

“I was just about to send for you, Mrs. Wayne,” he said gravely. “I am sorry you have seen the boy for I cannot give him up to you and the law supports my claim.”

“Sir Gilbert,” Adorable’s mother answered gently but firmly—“My claim is in the hands of a higher law and that law has made my child love me in spite of separation, in spite of environment—Jack,” she said, laying her hand on the little boy’s head—“Will you please tell this gentleman whether or not you want to stay here any longer after I have gone away again?”

“No, No,” shouted Jack hurling his arms around her once more. “I’ll go with you. I like you. I like you fine.”

“I think that settles the matter, Sir,” said the young man whose pleasant voice Adorable had heard in the school-room earlier that afternoon.

“We hold every proof that Jack is our son. By every right we can claim him. Let it be without unpleasant¬ ness, for truly you must not think we under-rate all you have done for our child.”

“Hurrah! Hurrah, Mumpie, I found Rob. He was hidden in a big old clock.”

Like a whirlwind composed of blue serge and white middy, into this sombre consulting room whizzed un¬ expectedly Jacqueline, the madcap.

“Mumpie, is this Jack? Oh, Jack, I’m so glad to see you. Hello!” And this radiant, very-much alive, little

JACK HAS CALLEKS maid seized one of Jack’s hands and pumped it up and down as vigorously as another boy might have done. But strangely enough, in spite of all her life and merri¬ ment Jacqueline was gentle and her voice, even at its highest lilt, was sweet as a silver bell.

“Hello!” answered Jack, smiling at her goodhumoredly. “Who are you ?”

Chapter II

“Pm Jacqueline, your sister,” answered the little girl with a joy so absolute that only a boor could have repulsed her.

Adorable’s manners often left much to be desired, but he had a heart that instinctively seemed to beat true when the really fine, sweet things of life were in question. So he gave back to Jacqueline a smile quite as radiant as her own.

His hands were now safe in the pockets of his knick¬ ers, and his feet were restlessly rumpling up the costly rug on which he stood. With one of the cheery chuckles that made him such a likable small boy he said:

“Whiz! I have heaps of folks. Ain’t I? I’m glad, You bet!”

“Ain’t I? You bet?”—Jack’s words were repeated after him by the most dismal voice that can be imag¬ ined.

The boy whirled around puzzled by the echo to see a stout, cross-looking lady with her eyes fixed accusing¬ ly upon him. Her black gloved hands were raised upright in horror.

“Ain’t I?—You bet,” she moaned once more. “Oh, that I should live to see a Wayne so ignorant, so vul¬ gar !”

She flounced around on her chair and shook an awe¬ inspiring finger at the child. The chair at that mo¬ ment creaked and instantly Jack remembered. This was, undoubtedly, the warlike person who had Annette in the school-room three quarters of an hour ago.

Adorable heartily wished himself back in his hiding place as with a rattle of jet beads and bangles she began to address him:

“It is time we found you, John Wayne. It is time indeed that you were rescued from the guardianship of a man who has paid no more attention than this to the cultural training of a child in whose veins flows the best blood of New England.”

“Jack, my boy, please step outside.” It was the curt voice of old Sir Gilbert that rang through the stately room now. “Little Miss Jacqueline, may I ask you to go, too?” he continued, this time softening his tone and walking majestically across the interven¬ ing space to open the door for the little girl with an old time courtly grace.

“Oh, goody-goody! Come on, Jack. Thank you, Sir Gilbert. Aren't you just dear? It is so awfully stuffy and, and miserable-like here, isn't it ? Don't you think so?” And smiling up at the old gentleman merrily, Jacqueline whirled out of the room every bit as gayly as she had entered, literally dragging Jack after her.

But “drag” is not the correct word to use for any length of time. For no sooner did Adorable realize that he was free, was really beyond those gloomy portals wherein argument and censure seemed to dwell, than wings lent themselves to his feet. Rollickingly he took the lead calling out, as he sped down the long hall:

“Come on. I'll show you the place. Want to see my rabbits ? Come on.”

“Huh! Don't need to walk all over me, Jack Gil¬ bert,” sputtered an outraged boyish voice from the gloom of a dusky corner.

“Ha, Ha!” chuckled Adorable. “Whatcher doing there, Rob ?” He stooped down to survey his prostrate chum.

“Oh, are you hurt, little boy?” exclaimed friendly

JACK

Jacqueline. Then recognizing him suddenly, she added, “Did you fall down the stairs? You were going home when I left you, that time I ran down to find Jack. Weren’t you?”

“Yes, I was,” grumbled Rob, “but I tumbled over something and my foot’s caught. Ouch! Don’t, Jack! That hurts.”

Poor Rob was indeed in a trap. His right foot was apparently wedged tightly into a vise-like crack in the centre of one of the old, oak stairs. The rest of his sturdy, little body rested partly on the stair-case and partly on the hall floor. That is why hurrying Jack had nearly trampled upon him.

“Help me push this board down, will you?” said Jack to his sister, pushing with all his might on the wider portion of the step in whose crevice Rob’s foot was imprisoned.

“It moves a little doesn’t it ?” said Jacqueline, breath¬ ing hard as she pushed determinedly.

“Ouch! Oh! I say, get it out will you? I tell you it hurts! It hurts something fierce,” whimpered Rob dismally.

“I’ve got it. Hurrah!” screamed Jack gayly, and as he spoke, Rob felt the tight clasp loosen on his poor ankle. Felt the slow but heavenly relief of numbness vanishing. Heard the thud of his boot strike the floor, free once more. Heard also a click and Jack’s ex¬ cited whisper:

“It’s a secret slide, fellows! Sh-Sh! Right here on the stairs, just think of it! Isn’t it swell? Sh-Sh! Don’t tell a soul. We can have heaps of fun with it.”

“A secret slide ? Oh, goody, goody! Just like a story book. Show it to us, Jack,” begged Jacqueline.

“Where is it? How do you know?” demanded Rob grumpily and doubtingly.

“Didn’t I feel it slide? Didn’t you hear it click? That’s how I know 'course,’ ” challenged Jack. “But oh, I say! I can't find it. I've shut it up again you see and now I've lost the spring."

“What are you children doing huddled here in a cor¬ ner? Trying to trip us all up and break our necks I suppose. Well, I’ll have none of it. Come along out here. Master Rob, you run home as fast as you can. You’ve no business here so late. Come along little girl and Master Jack. Supper is ready this long time. Hurry now. I’ll not be delayed. ’Tis my evening out.’’

An irritable maid servant had pounced upon the children and soon had the small force disbanded. Not however, before sympathetic Jacqueline whispered to Rob:

“I’m sorry about your foot, poor little boy.’’

“I’m not a little boy,’’ he growled at her, frowning heavily. “I’m heaps bigger than you.’’

“I’m sorry ’bout your foot just the same,’’ smiled the little girl.

“Oh, all right,’’ grunted Rob less crossly. “Guess it won’t kill me. Good night. I’m off.’’

“Bye, Rob!’’ screamed Jack cheerily. “Sh-Sh. Re¬ member our secret. Our code’s S. S. Huh?’’

“S. S. ?’’ questioned slower Rob.

“Do you children intend to mind me or not?’’ de¬ manded the unrelenting voice of the maid.

“S. S. You know, Rob. Course you do,’’ beseeched Jacqueline. “Secret SI—’’ but Adorable’s hand popped suddenly over her rosy mouth.

“Sh-Sh!’’ he hissed.

“Oh, yes. I get you. So long!’’ laughed Rob. He came panting, limping back to say, “don’t you play with it ’thout me, will you, huh?’’

“No we won’t,’’ answered amiable little Jacqueline but Adorable did not hear his chum. He was too busy trying to dodge the impatient maid who insisted that his hands and face were dirty and “that he’d wash them, yes he would, before he’d eat, so there.’’

JACK

Now Hester, as this maid was called, had a tart way of speaking but really was kind at heart. She had often been good friend to Jack, so after he had teased her sufficiently, he ran obligingly out of the room humming:

“Right-o Hester. Here I go. I'll wash my hands and maybe my face. Tra-la-la-la de dal”! Singing gayly he disappeared arid Hester turned her attention to Jacqueline.

“Sit here, little Miss. 'Tis a pleasant seat. It faces the fire. 'Tis smart cold these Spring evenings. Will you have gruel, my dear, or just your sugar buns and milk?”

“Thank you,” smiled Jacqueline. “Yes, this is a nice seat, isn't it? You were so kind to give it to me. I love a kindlely, snapping old fire like that. It's jolly. Is this where Jack eats when he's all alone? He's my brother, you know. He isn't going to live here any more. We've come to take him home.”

“Land sakes! Is that so?” said Hester in great surprise. “Why, what will Sir Gilbert do? He sets a heap on that boy, he does.”

“I'm sorry about Sir Gilbert,” answered the little girl softly. “He's nice, isn't he? But Jack's ours you know. He's been lost a long time. Maybe Sir Gilbert will come home with us, too.”

“La! Where do you live?” questioned amazed Hes¬ ter.

“Oh, in a dear, old place, ever so far away. Oh, why doesn't Jack hurry. I'm just starved, truly.”

“Eat then, little Miss. Don't wait for Master Jack. He’ll be here after a bit.”

But the seconds grew into minutes and the minutes rounded out the hour, and no Jack came. At first Jacqueline and Hester chatted so pleasantly that they scarcely noticed time flying but at last came a summons from the drawing-room. Master Jack was wanted at once by his father, Hilary Wayne.

Hester who stood rather in awe of the messenger, James the butler, hurried upstairs to search for the child. But she returned in a few moments consider¬ ably flustered, completely mystified. Adorable had not been in his room at all she asserted excitedly. It was too “orderly looking.” He had evidently not gone up¬ stairs when she had sent him to wash for supper.

“He was in your charge,” grimly accused James. “Find him and be quick for neither Sir Gilbert nor Mr. Wayne are in a mood for nonsense.”

Jacqueline bounded up merrily. “Don’t cry, Hester,” she said in her breezy little way. “I’ll help you find Jack. He’s hiding, maybe.” And here the child laughed apologetically and looked up into James’ stern face. “Hester can’t help it. Please, don’t scold her, Sir.”

“Miss,” answered the man-servant gravely, “You are wanted too. Your parents are about to leave. Will you go in at once?”

“Oh, of course I will,” agreed Jacqueline pleasantly. “I’ll tell Mother Jack is hiding, Hester, and she will let me come back to help you find him.” With this friendly assurance the little girl tripped off to the drawing¬ room.

If she had found it “stuffy and miserable-like” before, it seemed doubly so now. Evidently matters had not been adjusted satisfactorily. Mr. Wayne was pacing restlessly up and down in front of the fire place.

Old Annette was weeping copiously. The stout, severe-looking lady was speaking her mind quite freely to Sir Gilbert who, apparently unmoved by her attack, sat well back in his huge, lounging chair with the tips of the fingers of his slim, wrinkled hands tapping each other methodically.

Mr. Bob, the clerk, and the two professional-looking

JACK men who had been in the drawing-room earlier, had disappeared.

At first, Jacqueline did not see her mother and began to question her father eagerly.

“Daddy, where’s Mumpie ?”—Then breaking off that speech abruptly—“Oh, there she is. Oh, Mumpie. Jack is hiding. He’s just too jolly for anything. May I help Hester find him? Hester’s the maid you see, who gave me my tea.”

Mrs. Wayne, like Sir Gilbert, was cool and tranquil amid all the excitement. She stood looking up at an old-fashioned portrait of one of Sir Gilbert’s ancestors. A quiet smile was on her lips as she turned to greet her little daughter.

“Have you and Jack had a nice time, dearie ? Mother is so glad. We must say good-night to Jack now, though. We must go away without him you see.”

“Oh, Mumpie,” wailed Jacqueline in mournful disap¬ pointment. “I thought Jack was coming with us. Why isn’t he?”

“Sir Gilbert has been very kind to our little boy for many years,” explained her mother softly. “He loves him so very much that he does not wish to give him up to us just yet. We must be patient, little daughter, but some day soon, I am sure, Jack will be allowed to come home.”

Her bright, clear eyes sought the old gentleman’s with frank friendliness and his keen ones studied her face searchingly. But voices in the hall could now be distinctly heard raised in excitement.

James opened the door even while remonstrating with some one and Hester distracted and hysterical burst in to say:

“Oh, Sir Gilbert, we can’t find Master Jack anywhere. He’s not over at Master Rob’s either. We telephoned. And I’ve searched the house high and low, that I have.”

“Quite right, Hester. Quite right,” agreed the old gentleman calmly, “You need not worry. You may withdraw. Master Jack is not here but he is safe. You may go. You also, James.”

Through the tense silence that followed all this sur¬ prising dialogue Hilary Wayne’s voice broke sharply— “What do you mean, Sir Gilbert?” There was a chal¬ lenge in the tone.

“I mean just what I said,” the old baronet replied. “I am merely safeguarding my rights. When you can legally, absolutely prove that my ward is your son, I will relinquish my claim to him honorably. Until then he is safe. But not here. No, not here.”

The stately old man rose and bowing to Mrs. Wayne with solemn dignity, continued,—if you will accept my hospitality, Madam, and you also, Sir, (indicating Mr. Wayne) we will now dine. Annette, you may go. Oh, pardon me, Madam,” apparently seeing the belligerent lady of the jet beads for the first time, “Will you not also dine with us ?”

“Sir Gilbert, this is nonsense,” thundered young Mr. Wayne indignantly. “Do you think the law will permit such a course as you have taken ? Sir,—I demand that the house be thoroughly searched and at once. With your permission I will telephone for the proper authori¬ ties.”

But before his hand had more than reached the in¬ strument, an unexpected cry rang out triumphantly. It came from Jacqueline, the ever alert.

“Oh, Mumpie, Daddy, I’ll find him. I know where he is. Come, I’ll show you! There’s a secret stair¬ case.”

Chapter III. Under The Shining Stars

When Adorable ran off singing to wash for tea, his feet faltered for a second over the mysterious step on the staircase. He dropped down on his knees to ex¬ amine it once more, but almost instantly an alert con¬ science reminded him that this would scarcely be “play¬ ing fair” with his co-discoverers.

Grimly he scrambled up then and continued on his way to his room. But in the upper hall came another digression. He could hear someone whistling. To wash at any time seemed to Jack foolish waste of happy moments, hence, the longer he could postpone the dreary task, the better.

Why, that was Mr. Bob's whistle, “course it was.” Well, he'd better go in and find out what Mr. Bob was doing upstairs anyhow. Guess he would.

Mr. Bob never came to his room this early. He was generally busy with Sir Gilbert until long after Ador¬ able's bed-time.

“Sure he was.” Didn't Adorable know full well how hard it was to keep his sleepy eyes open waiting for him? One solemn rite of their code of Pal-ship was this stolen visit each night of Mr. Bob to little Jack.

Naturally, now that his good friend was so near, thoughts of waiting tea-tables and impatient Hesters and jolly Jacquelines all vanished like magic from Jack's mind. He paddled eagerly down the corridor to a room from which the whistling issued. The door was ajar, Mr. Bob's green shaded student lamp cast a soft pathway of light across the threshold. Within its cheery radiance a small boy paused.

UNDER THE SHINING STARS

“Hi, Mr. Bob!” he called. “Kin I come in? —Oh, I say where you going? What you packing up for? Huh, Mr. Bob?”

The sturdy body of Adorable was now wedged se¬ curely in the space between the partially opened door and the casing. His big brown eyes were almost pop¬ ping out of his head.

The young man kneeling on the floor, tumbling gar¬ ments rapidly into a suit-case, he stopped whistling and turned his head to survey Jack over one shoulder.