way of a joke.

Thus it came about that on the fifth morning, Macgregor received a
postcard depicting a light-house on a rocky coast and bearing a few
written words, also an oddly shaped parcel. The written words
were:--

'Delighted to hear you are doing so well at the shooting. Sending
prize by same post.

This was better!--more like Christina herself. All was not lost!
Eagerly he tore off the numerous wrappings and disclosed
a--cocoa-nut! In his present state of mind he would have preferred
an infernal machine. A cocoa-nut! She was just laughing at him!
He was about to conceal the nut when Willie appeared.

'My! ye're the lucky deevil, Macgreegor! Frae yer uncle, I
suppose. I'll help ye to crack it. I'll toss ye for the milk--if
there's ony.'

'I'm no gaun to crack it the noo, Wullie,' Macgregor said,
restraining himself.

'At nicht--eh?'

'I'll see.'

By evening, however, Willie was not thinking of cocoa-nuts or,
indeed, of anything in the nature of eatables. His first
experience in firing a rifle had taken place that afternoon and had