“This way with the log!  Now, boys, pull with a will!” cried Max, not insensible to the novelty and picturesqueness of the situation, as a motley crowd, some in smock-frocks, some in corduroy and some in gaiters and great-coats, pressed into the great hall dragging the log after them with many a “Whoop!” and shout and cry.

Mr. and Mrs. Wedmore and the two girls hurried downstairs on hearing the door open, and stood by the fireplace, with a little glow of satisfaction and pleasure at the turn affairs had taken.

It was a log!  Or, rather, it was more than a log; for it was half a tree.  Slowly the huge thing came in, scraping the nicely polished floor, rolling a little from side to side, and threatening all those within a yard of it.  And then, when its appearance had spread consternation through the household, the inevitable question came:  What was to be done with it?

The fire-basket had been taken out of the hearth on purpose for its reception, but it was evident that, even after this careful preparation, to think of burning it whole was out of the question.  There was nothing for it but to send for a saw and to reduce the log then and there to a manageable size.

This was done, amid considerable noise and excitement, drinking of the health of the family by villagers who had been drinking too much already, and much scraping of the polished floor by muddy, hob-nailed boots.

Finally the deputation was got rid of, and the interrupted dinner was allowed to proceed, much to the comfort of Max, who had eaten nothing since breakfast, and much to the dismay of Mrs. Wedmore, who was then able to ascertain the extent of the damage done by the invaders.

It was lucky for Max that he had arrived at such an opportune moment.  His father had been grumbling at the number of visits he had made to town lately, and the young man would have found him in no very good humor if he had not discovered to his hand the opportunity of making himself conspicuously useful.

It is scarcely necessary to say that Max did not tell anyone about the adventures he had met with.  He knew that he should have to go through the ordeal of an interview with his sister, Doreen, who would want to know a great deal more than he was willing to tell her; but he was tired, and he made up his mind that he would not be interrogated that evening.  So he gave her no opportunity for the confidential talk she was dying to have with him, but spent the remainder of the evening in dutiful attendance upon his mother.

The following day was Christmas Eve.  Max came down late to breakfast, and he had scarcely entered the morning-room when his father handed him the Standard, pointing to a certain paragraph without any comment but a glance at the girls, as a hint to his son not to make any remark which would recall Dudley and his affairs to their minds.

The paragraph was as follows: