CAPTAIN JIM

By

MARY GRANT BRUCE

WARD, LOCK & CO. , LIMITED

LONDON AND MELBOURNE

1919

MADE IN ENGLAND

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN

BY EBENEZER BAYLIS AND SON, LTD. , THE

TRINITY PRESS, WORCESTER, AND LONDON

CONTENTS

CHAP. 

 I John O'Neill's Legacy II The Home for Tired People III Of London and Other Matters IV Settling In V How the Cook-Lady Found her Level VI Kidnapping VII The Thatched Cottage VIII Assorted Guests IX Homewood Gets Busy X Australia in Surrey XI Cheero! XII Of Labour and Promotion XIII The End of a Perfect Day XIV Carrying On XV Prisoners and Captives XVI Through the Darkness XVII Lights Out XVIII The Watch on the Rhine XIX Reveille XX All Clear

CAPTAIN JIM

CHAPTER I

JOHN O'NEILL'S LEGACY

"Queer, isn't it?" Jim said. 

"Rather!" said Wally. 

They were sitting on little green chairs in Hyde Park. Not far offswirled the traffic of Piccadilly; glancing across to Hyde ParkCorner, they could see the great red motor-'buses, meeting, halting, and then rocking away in different directions, hooting as they fled. The roar of London was in their ears. 

It was a sunny morning in September. The Park was dotted in everydirection with shining perambulators, propelled by smart nurses inuniform, and tenanted by proud little people, fair-haired and rosy, and extremely cheerful. Wally liked the Park babies. He referred tothem collectively as "young dukes. "

"They all look so jolly well tubbed, don't they?" he remarked, straying from the subject in hand. "Might be soap advertisements. Look, there's a jolly little duke in that gorgeous white pram, and abigger sized duke trotting alongside, with a Teddy-bear as big ashimself. Awful nice kids. " He smiled at the babies in the way thatmade it seem ridiculous that he should be grown-up and in uniform. 

"They can't both be dukes, " said Jim literally. "Can't grow more thanone in a family; at least not at the same time, I believe. "

"Oh, well, it doesn't matter--and anyhow, the one in the pram's aduchess, " returned Wally. "I say, the duke's fallen in love with you, Jim. "

"The duke, " a curly-haired person in a white coat, hesitated on thefootpath near the two subalterns, then mustering his courage, cameclose to Jim and gravely presented him with his Teddy-bear. Jimreceived the gift as gravely, and shook hands with the small boy, tohis great delight. 

"Thanks, awfully, " he said. "It's a splendid Teddy, isn't it?"

The nurse, greatly scandalized, swooped down upon her charge, exhorting him to be ashamed, now, and not worry the gentleman. Butthe "duke" showed such distress when Jim attempted to return theTeddy-bear that the matter had to be adjusted by distracting hisattention in the direction of some drilling soldiers, while Wallyconcealed the toy under the embroidered rug which protected the plumplegs of the "duchess"--who submitted with delighted gurgles to beingtickled under the chin. They withdrew reluctantly, urged by the stillhorrified nurse. 

"See what it is to be beautiful and have the glad eye!" jeered Wally. "Dukes never give _me_ Teddy-bears!"

"It's my look of benevolent age, " Jim said, grinning. "Anyhow, youngWally, if you'll stop beguiling the infant peerage, and attend tobusiness, I'll be glad. We'll have Norah and Dad here presently. "

"I'm all attention, " said his friend. "But there's nothing more to besaid than that it _is_ rum, is there? And we said that. "

"Norah gave me a letter from poor old O'Neill to show you, " Jim said. "I'll read it, if you like. "

The merriment that was never very far from Wally Meadows' eyes diedout as his chum unfolded a sheet of paper, closely written. 

"He wrote it in the hotel in Carrignarone, I suppose?" he askedgently. 

"Yes; just after dinner on the night of the fight. You see, he wascertain he wasn't coming back. Anyhow, this is what he says:

*****

"My Dear Norah, --

"If I am alive after to-night you will not get this letter: it isonly to come to you if I shall have 'gone West. ' And please don'tworry if I do go West. You see, between you all you have managedalmost to make me forget that I am just an apology for a man. I didnot think it could be done, but you have done it. Still, now and thenI remember, and I know that there will be long years after you haveall gone back to that beloved Australia of yours when there will benothing to keep me from realizing that I am crippled and a hunchback. To-night I have the one chance of my life of living up to thetraditions of O'Neills who were fighting men; so if, by good luck, Imanage to wing a German or two, and then get in the way of an oddbullet myself, you mustn't grudge my finishing so much more pleasantlythan I had ever hoped to do. 

"If I do fall, I am leaving you that place of mine in Surrey. I havehardly any one belonging to me, and they have all more money than isgood for them. The family estates are entailed, but this is mine todo as I please with. I know you don't need it, but it will be a homefor you and your father while Jim and Wally are fighting, if you carefor it. And perhaps you will make some use of it that will interestyou. I liked the place, as well as I could like any place outsideIreland; and if I can look back--and I am very sure that I shall beable to look back--I shall like to see you all there--you people whobrought the sun and light and laughter of Australia into the greyshadows of my life--who never seemed to see that I was different fromother men. 

"Well, good-bye--and God keep you happy, little mate. 

 "Your friend, "John O'Neill. "

*****

Jim folded the letter and put it back in his pocket, and there was along silence. Each boy was seeing again a strip of Irish beach wherea brave man had died proudly. 

"Different!" Wall said, at last, with a catch in his voice. "Hewasn't different--at least, only in being a jolly sight better thanmost fellows. "

Jim nodded. 

"Well, he had his fight, and he did his bit, and, seeing how he feltabout things, I'm glad for his sake that he went out, " he said. "OnlyI'm sorry for us, because it was a pretty big thing to be friends witha man like that. Anyhow, we won't forget him. We wouldn't evenwithout this astonishing legacy of Norah's. "

"Have you any particulars about it?" Wally asked. 

"Dad got a letter from O'Neill too--both were sent to his lawyers; hemust have posted them himself that evening in Carrignarone. Dad's wasonly business. The place is really left to him, in trust for Norah, until she comes of age; that's so that there wouldn't be any legalbother about her taking possession of it at once if she wants to. Poor old Norah's just about bowled over. She felt O'Neill's death soawfully, and now this has brought it all back. "

"Yes, it's rough on Norah, " Wally said. "I expect she hates takingthe place. "

"She can't bear the idea of it. Dad and I don't much care about iteither. "

Wally pondered. 

"May I see that letter again?" he asked presently. 

Jim Linton took out the letter and handed it to his friend. He filledhis pipe leisurely and lit it, while Wally knitted his brows over thesheet of cheap hotel paper. Presently he looked up, a flash ofeagerness in his keen brown eyes. 

"Well, I think O'Neill left that place to Norah with a purpose, " hesaid. "I don't believe it's just an ordinary legacy. Of course, it'shers, all right; but don't you think he wanted something done withit?"

"Done with it?"

"Yes. Look here, " Wally put a thin forefinger on the letter. "Lookwhat he says--'Perhaps you will make some use of it that may interestyou. ' Don't you think that means something?"

"I believe it might, " Jim said cautiously. "But what?"

Wally hesitated. 

"Well, he was just mad keen on the War, " he said. "He was alwaysplanning what he could do to help, since he couldn't fight, --at least, since he thought he couldn't, " the boy added with a sigh. "I wonderhe hadn't used it himself for something in connexion with the War. "

"He couldn't--it's let, " Jim put in quickly. "The lawyers wrote aboutit to Dad. It's been let for a year, and the lease expires thismonth--they said O'Neill had refused to renew it. That rather looksas if he had meant to do something with it, doesn't it?"

Wally nodded vigorously. 

"I'll bet he did. Now he's left it to Norah to carry on. You see, they told us his own relations weren't up to much. I expect he knewthey wouldn't make any use of it except for themselves. Why, it's asclear as mud, Jim! O'Neill knew that Norah didn't actually need theplace, and that she and your father wanted to be near you and stillhelp the war themselves. They didn't like working in London--Norah'stoo much of a kid, and your father says himself he's not trained. Nowthey've got a perfectly ripping chance!"

"Oh, bless you, Wally!" said a thankful voice behind them. 

The boys sprang to their feet. Behind them stood a tall girl with asun-tanned face and straight grey eyes--eyes that bore marks of tears, of which Norah for once was unashamed. Her brown curls were tied backwith a broad black ribbon. She was very slender--"skinny, " Norahwould have said--but, despite that she was at what is known as "theawkward age, " no movement of Norah Linton's was ever awkward. Shemoved with something of the unconcerned grace of a deer. In her blueserge coat and skirt she presented the well-groomed look that was partand parcel of her. She smiled at the two boys, a little tremulously. 

"Hallo!" said her brother. "We didn't hear you--where did you springfrom?"

"Dad dropped me at the Corner--he had to go on to Harrods, " Norahanswered. "I came across the grass, and you two were so busy talkingyou didn't know I was there. I couldn't help hearing what you said, Wally. "

"Well, I'm glad you did, " Wally answered, "But what do you thinkyourself, Nor?"

"I was just miserable until I heard you, " Norah said. "It seemed tooawful to take Sir John's house--to profit by his death. I couldn'tbear it. But of course you're right. I do think I was stupid--I readhis letter a dozen times, but I never saw it that way. "

"But you agree with Wally, now?" Jim asked. 

"Why, of course--don't you? I suppose I might have had the sense tosee his meaning in time, but I could only think of seeming to benefitby his death. However, as long as one member of the family has seenit, it's all right. " She flashed a smile at Wally. "I'm just ever somuch happier. It makes it all--different. We were such--" her voicetrembled--"such good chums, and now it seems as if he had reallytrusted us to carry on for him. "

"Of course he did, " Wally said. "He knew jolly well you would makegood use of it, and it would help you, too, when Jim was away. "

"Jim?" said that gentleman. "Jim? What are you leaving yourself outfor? Aren't you coming? Got a Staff job at home?"

"I'm ashamed of you, Wally, " said Norah severely. "Of course, if youdon't _want_ to belong----!" Whereat Wally Meadows flushed andlaughed, and muttered something unintelligible that nevertheless wasquite sufficient for his friends. 

It was not a thing of yesterday, that friendship. It went back todays of small-boyhood, when Wally, a lonely orphan from Queensland, had been Jim Linton's chum at the Melbourne Grammar School, and hadfallen into a habit of spending his holidays at the Linton's bigstation in the north of Victoria, until it seemed that he was reallyone of the Billabong family. Years had knitted him and Jim and Norahinto a firm triumvirate, mates in the work and play of an Australiancattle-run; watched over by the silent grey man whose existencecentred in his motherless son and daughter--with a warm corner in hisaffections for the lithe, merry Queensland boy, whose loyalty toBillabong and its people had never wavered since his childhood. 

Then, just as Jim had outgrown school and was becoming his father'sright-hand man on the station, came the world-upheaval of the EuropeanWar, which had whisked them all to England. Business had, at themoment, summoned Mr. Linton to London; to leave Norah behind was notto be thought of, and as both the boys were wild to enlist, and Wallywas too young to be accepted in Australia--though not in England--itseemed that the simplest thing to do was to make the pilgrimage ageneral one, and let the chums enlist in London. They had joined afamous British regiment, obtaining commissions without difficulty, thanks to cadet training in Australia. But their first experience ofwar in Flanders had been a short one: they were amongst the first tosuffer from the German poison-gas, and a long furlough had resulted. 

Mr. Linton and Norah had taken them to Ireland as soon as they werefit to travel; and the bogs and moors of Donegal, coupled withtrout-fishing, had gone far to effect a cure. But there, unexpectedadventure had awaited them. They had made friends with Sir JohnO'Neill, the last of an old North of Ireland family: a half-crippledman, eating out his heart against the fate that held him back from anactive part in the war. Together they had managed to stumble on anoil-base for German submarines, concealed on the rocky coast; and, luck and boldness favouring them, to trap a U-boat and her crew. Ithad been a short and triumphant campaign--skilfully engineered byO'Neill; and he alone had paid for the triumph with his life. 

John O'Neill had died happily, rejoicing in for once having played thepart of a fighting man; but to the Australians his death had been ablow that robbed their victory of all its joy. They mourned for himas for one of themselves, cherishing the memory of the high-souled manwhose spirit had outstripped his weak body. Jim and Wally, fromexposure on the night of the fight, had suffered a relapse, andthroat-trouble had caused their sick-leave to be extended severaltimes. Now, once more fit, they were back in London, expecting torejoin their regiment immediately. 

"So now, " Jim said, "the only question is, what are you going to dowith it?"

"I'm going to think hard for a day, " said Norah. "So can you two; andwe'll ask Dad, of course. "

"And then Dad will tell you what to do, " said Jim, grinning. 

"Yes of course he will. Dad always has splendid ideas, " said Norah, laughing. "But we won't have any decision for a day, because it's aterribly big thing to think of. I wish I was grown up--it must beeasier to settle big questions if you haven't got your hair down yourback!"

"I don't quite see what your old curly mop has to do with it, butanyhow, you needn't be in a hurry to put it up, " said her brother. "It's awful to be old and responsible, isn't it Wally?" To whichWally responded with feeling, "Beastly!" and endeavoured to look morethan nineteen--failing signally. 

"Let's go and look at the Row, " Norah said. 

"Dad will find us all right, I suppose?" Jim hesitated. 

"Why, he couldn't miss you!" said Norah, laughing. "Come on. "

Even when more than a year of War had made uniform a commonplace inLondon streets, you might have turned to look at Jim and Wally. Jimwas immensely tall; his chum little less so; and both were lean andclean-shaven, tanned to a deep bronze, and stamped with a look ofresolute keenness. In their eyes was the deep glint that comes tothose who have habitually looked across great spaces. The type hasbecome familiar enough in London now, but it generally exists under aslouch hat; and these lads were in British uniform, bearing the badgesof a famous marching regiment. At first they had hankered after thecavalry, being much more accustomed to ride than to walk: but as thearmies settled down into the Flanders mud it became increasinglyapparent that this was not to be a horseman's war, and that therefore, as Wally put it, if they wanted to be in the fun, they had better makeup their minds to paddle with the rest. The amount of "fun" had sofar been a negligible quantity which caused them some bitterness ofspirit. They earnestly hoped to increase it as speedily as might be, and to give the Hun as much inconvenience as they could manage in theprocess. 

They strolled across the grass to the railings, and looked up and downthe tan ribbon of Rotten Row. Small boys and girls, on smart poniesand woolly Shetlands, walked or trotted sedately; or occasionallygalloped, followed by elderly grooms torn between pride and anxiety. Jim and Wally thought the famous Row an over-rated concern; failing torealize, from its war aspect, the Row of other days, crammed fromfence to fence with beautiful horses and well-turned-out riders, andwith half the world looking on from the railings. Nowadays the smallboys and girls had it chiefly to themselves, and could stray from sideto side at their own sweet will. A few ladies were riding, and therewas a sprinkling of officers in khaki; obviously on Army horses andout for exercise. Now and then came a wounded man, slowly, on areliable cob or sturdy pony--bandages visible, or one arm in a sling. A few people sat about, or leaned on the fences, watching; but therewas nothing to attract a crowd. Every one looked business-like, purposeful; clothes were plain and useful, with little frippery. Theold glitter and splendour of the Row was gone: the London that used towatch it was a London that had forgotten how to play. 

Beyond the Row, carriages, drawn by beautiful pairs of horses, high-stepping, with harness flashing in the sunlight, drove up anddown. Some contained old ladies and grey-haired men; but nearly allbore a load of wounded soldiers, with sometimes a tired-faced nurse. 

"There's that nice old Lady Ellison--the one that used to take Jim andme out when we were in hospital, " Wally said, indicating a carriagewith a magnificent pair of bays. "She was an old dear. My word, I'dlike to have the driving of those horses--in a good light buggy on theBillabong track!"

"So would I, " Jim assented. "But I'd take those beastly bearing-reinsoff before I started. "

"Yes, " said Norah eagerly. "Poor darlings, how they must hate them!Jim, I wish we'd struck London when the coaches used to be seen. "

"Rather!" said Jim. "Anstruther used to tell me about them. Coachesbigger than Cobb & Co. 's, and smart as paint, with teams of four somatched you could hardly tell which was which--and educated beyondanything Australians could dream about. There was one man--poor chap, Anstruther said he was drowned in the _Lusitania_--who had a team offour black cobs. I think Anstruther used to dream about them atnight; he got poetical and incoherent when he tried to describe 'em. "

"Fancy seeing a dozen or so of those coaches swinging down Piccadillyon a fine morning!" said Wally. "That would be something to tellblack Billy about, Norah!"

"He'd only say Plenty!" said Norah, laughing. "Look--there's Dad!"

They turned to meet a tall grey man who came swinging across the grasswith a step as light as his son's. David Linton greeted them with asmile. 

"I knew I should find you as near as you could get to the horses, " hesaid. "This place is almost a rest-cure after Harrod's; I never findmyself in that amazing shop without wishing I had a bell on my neck, so that I couldn't get lost. And I always take the wrong lift andfind myself among garden tools when all I want is collars. "

"Well, they have lifts round every corner: you want a speciallift-sense not to take the wrong one, " Norah defended him. 

"Yes, and when you ask your way anywhere in one of these fifty-acreLondon shops they say, 'Through the archway, sir, ' and disappear: andyou look round you frantically, and see about seventeen differentarchways, and there you are, " Wally stated. "So you plunge into themall in turn, and get hopelessly lost. But it's rather fun. "

"I'd like it better if they didn't call me 'Moddam, '" said Norah. "'Shoes, Moddam? Certainly, Moddam; first to the right, second to theleft, lift Number fifteen, fifth floor and the attendant will directyou!' Then you stagger into space, wishing for a wet towel round yourhead!"

"I could almost believe, " said her father, regarding her gravely, "that you would prefer Cunjee, with one street, one general store, oneblacksmith's, and not much else at all. "

"Why, of course I do, " Norah laughed. "At least you can't get lostthere, and you haven't got half a day's journey from the oatmeal placeto the ribbon department: they'll sell you both at the same counter, and a frying-pan and a new song too! Think of the economy of time andboot-leather! And Mr. Wilkins knows all about you, and talks to youlike a nice fat uncle while he wraps up your parcels. And if you'reon a young horse you needn't get off at all--all you have to do is tocoo-ee, and Mr. Wilkins comes out prepared to sell you all his shop onthe footpath. If _that_ isn't more convenient than seventeen archwaysand fifty-seven lifts, then I'd like to know what is!"

"Moddam always had a great turn of eloquence, hadn't she?" murmuredWally, eyeing her with respect. Whereat Norah reddened and laughed, and accused him of sentiments precisely similar to her own. 

"I think we're all much the same, " Jim said. "London's all very wellfor a visit. But just imagine what it would be if we didn't know wewere going back to Billabong some day!"

"What a horrible idea!" Norah said. "But we are--when the old War'sover, and the Kaiser has retired to St. Helena, and the Huns are busybuilding up Belgium and France. And you'll both be captains, if youaren't brigadiers, and all Billabong will expect to see you come backin uniform glittering with medals and things. "

"I like their chance!" said Wally firmly. 

"Anyhow, we'll all go back; and that's all that matters, " said Norah. Her eyes dwelt wistfully on the two tall lads. 

"And meanwhile, " said Jim, "we'll all go down to Fuller's and havemorning tea. One thing, young Norah, you won't find a Fuller's inCunjee!"

"Why would I be trying?" Norah asked cheerfully. "Sure isn't thereBrownie at Billabong?"

"Hear, hear!" agreed Wally. "When I think of Brownie's pikelets----"

"Or Brownie's scones, " added Norah. "Or her sponge-cakes. "

"Or Brownie's tea-pot, as large and as brown as herself, " said Mr. Linton--"then London is a desert. But we'll make the best of it forthe present. Come along to Fuller's. "

CHAPTER II

THE HOME FOR TIRED PEOPLE

"To begin with, " said Jim--"what's the place like?"

"Eighty acres, with improvements, " answered his father. "And threefarms--all let. "

"Daddy, you're like an auctioneer's advertisement, " Norah protested. "Tell us what it is _like_--the house, I mean. "

"We'll run down and see it soon, " said Mr. Linton. "Meanwhile, thelawyers tell me it's a good house, Queen Anne style----"

"What's that?" queried Jim. 

"Oh, gables and things, " said Wally airily. "Go on, sir, please. "

"Standing in well-timbered park lands, " said Mr. Linton, fishing apaper out of his pocket, and reading from it. "Sorry, Norah, but Ican't remember all these thrills without the lawyers' letter. Loungehall, four reception rooms----"

"Who are you going to receive, Nor?"

"Be quiet, " said Norah, aiming a cushion at the offender. "Not you, if you're not extra polite!"

"Be quiet, all of you, or I will discontinue this penny reading, " saidMr. Linton severely. "Billiard-room, thirteen bedrooms, three baths(h. And c. )----"

"Hydraulic and condensed, " murmured Wally. Jim sat upon him withsilent firmness, and the reading was unchecked. 

"Excellent domestic offices, modern drainage, central heating, electric plant, Company's water----"

"What on earth----?" said Jim. 

"I really don't know, " said his father. "But I suppose it means youcan turn taps without fear of a drought, or they wouldn't put it. Grounds including shady old-world gardens, walled kitchen garden, stone-flagged terrace, lily pond, excellent pasture. Squash racquetcourt. "

"What's that?" asked Norah. 

"You play it with pumpkins, " came, muffled, from beneath Jim. "Let meup, Jimmy--I'll be good. "

"That'll be something unusual, " said Jim, rising. "Yes, Dad?"

"Stabling, heated garage, thatched cottage. Fine timber. Two of thefarms let on long leases; one lease expires with lease of house. Allin excellent order. I think that's about all. So there you are, Norah. And what are you going to do with it?"

It was the next morning, and the treacherous September sunshine hadvanished, giving place to a cold, wet drizzle, which blurred thewindows of the Lintons' flat in South Kensington. Looking down, nothing was to be seen but a few mackintoshed pedestrians, splashingdismally along the wet, grey street. Across the road the trees in alittle, fenced square were already getting shabby, and a few leavesfluttered idly down. The brief, gay English summer had gone; alreadythe grey heralds of the sky sounded the approach of winter, long andcold and gloomy. 

"I've been thinking terribly hard, " Norah said. "I don't think I everlay awake so long in my life. But I can't make up my mind. Of courseit must be some way of helping the War. But how? We couldn't make ita hospital, could we?"

"I think not, " said her father. "The hospital idea occurred to me, but I don't think it would do. You see you'd need nurses and a bigstaff, and doctors; and already that kind of thing is organized. People well established might do it, but not lone Australians like youand me, Norah. "

"How about a convalescent home?"

"Well, the same thing applies, in a less degree. I believe, too, thatthey are all under Government supervision, and I must admit I've nohankering after that. We wouldn't be able to call our souls our own;and we'd be perpetually irritated by Government under-strappers, interfering with us and giving orders--no, I don't think we couldstand it. You and I have always run our own show, haven't we, Norah--that is, until Jim came back to boss us!" He smiled at histall son. 

There was a pause. 

"Well, Dad--you always have ideas, " said Norah, in the voice of onewho waits patiently. 

Mr. Linton hesitated. 

"I don't know that I have anything very brilliant now, " he said. "ButI was thinking--do you remember Garrett, the fellow you boys used totell us about? who never cared to get leave because he hadn't anyhome. "

"Rather!" said the boys. "Fellow from Jamaica. "

"He was an awfully sociable chap, " Wally added, "and he didn't likecities. So London bored him stiff when he was alone. He said thetrenches were much more homelike. "

"Well, there must be plenty of people like that, " said Mr. Linton. "Especially, of course, among the Australians. Fellows to whom leavecan't mean what it should, for want of a home: and without any tiesit's easy for them to get into all sorts of mischief. And they shouldget all they can out of leave, for the sake of the War, if for nothingelse: they need a thorough mental re-fitting, to go back fresh andkeen, so that they can give the very best of themselves when the workbegins again. "

"So you think of making Sir John's place into a Home for Tiredpeople?" said Norah, excitedly. "Dad, it's a lovely plan!"

"What do you think, Jim?" asked Mr. Linton. 

"Yes, I think it's a great idea, " Jim said slowly. "Even the littlebit of France we had showed us what I told you--that you've got togive your mind a spring-cleaning whenever you can, if you want to keepfit. I suppose if people are a bit older they can stick itbetter--some of them, at least. But when you're in the line for anytime, you sometimes feel you've just _got_ to forget things--smellsand pain, and--things you see. "

"Well, you'd forget pretty soon at a place like the one you've beenreading about, " said Wally. "Do you remember, Jim, how old poor oldGarrett used to look? He was always cheery and ragging, and all thatsort of thing, but often he used to look like his own grandfather, andhis eyes gave you the creeps. And he couldn't sleep. "

"'M!" said Jim. "I remember. If Garrett's still going, will you havehim for your first patient, Nor? What will you call them, by theway--guests? patients? cases?"

"Inmates, " grinned Wally. 

"Sounds like a lunatic asylum, " rejoined Jim. "How about lodgers? Orpatrons?"

"They'll be neither, donkey, " said Norah pleasantly. "Just TiredPeople, I think. Oh, Dad, I want to begin!"

"You shouldn't call your superiors names, especially when I have moreideas coming to me, " said Jim severely. "Look here--I agree with Dadthat you couldn't have a convalescent home, where you'd need nursesand doctors; but I do think you might ask fellows on final sick-leave, like us--who'd been discharged from hospitals, but were not quite fityet. Chaps not really needing nursing, but not up to much travelling, or to the racket and fuss of an hotel. "

"Yes, " said Wally. "Or chaps who had lost a limb, and were trying toplan out how they were going to do without it. " His young face lookedsuddenly grave; Norah remembered a saying of his once before--"I don'tin the least mind getting killed, but I don't want Fritz to wing me. "She moved a little nearer to him. 

"That's a grand idea--yours too, Jimmy, " she said. "Dad, do you thinkSir John would be satisfied?"

"If we can carry out our plan as we hope, I think he would, " Mr. Linton said. "We'll find difficulties, of course, and make mistakes, but we'll do our best, Norah. And if we can send back to the Frontcheery men, rested and refreshed and keen--well, I think we'll bedoing our bit. And after the War? What then?"

"I was thinking about that, too, " said Norah. "And I got a clearernotion than about using it now, I think. Of course, "--shehesitated--"I don't know much about money matters, or if you think Iought to keep the place. You see, you always seem to have enough togive us everything we want, Dad. I won't need to keep it, will I? Idon't want to, even if I haven't got much money. "

"I'm not a millionaire, " said David Linton, laughing. "But--no, youwon't need an English income, Norah. "

"I'm so glad, " said Norah. "Then when we go back to Billabong, Dad, couldn't we turn it all into a place for partly-disabledsoldiers, --where they could work a bit, just as much as they were ableto, but they'd be sure of a home and wouldn't have any anxiety. Idon't know if it could be made self--self--you know--earning its ownliving----"

"Self-supporting, " assisted her father. 

"Yes, self-supporting, " said Norah gratefully. "Perhaps it could. But they'd all have their pensions to help them. "

"Yes, and it could be put under a partly-disabled officer with a wifeand kids that he couldn't support--some poor beggar feeling likecommitting suicide because he couldn't tell where little Johnny's nextpair of boots was coming from!" added Jim. "That's the most rippingidea, Norah! What do you think, Dad?"

"Yes--excellent, " said Mr. Linton. "The details would want a lot ofworking-out, of course: but there will be plenty of time for that. Iwould like to make it as nearly self-supporting as possible, so thatthere would be no idea of charity about it. "

"A kind of colony, " said Wally. 

"Yes. It ought to be workable. The land is good, and withpoultry-farming, and gardening, and intensive culture, it should paywell enough. We'll get all sorts of expert advice, Norah, and planthe thing thoroughly. "

"And we'll call it 'The O'Neill Colony, ' or something like that, " saidNorah, her eyes shining. "I'd like it to carry on Sir John's name, wouldn't you, Dad?"

"Indeed, yes, " said David Linton. "It has some sort of quiet, inoffensive name already, by the way--yes, Homewood. "

"Well, that sounds nice and restful, " said Jim. "Sort of name you'dlike to think of in the trenches. When do we go to see it, Dad?"

"The lawyers have written to ask the tenants what day will suit them, "said his father. "They're an old Indian Army officer and his wife, Ibelieve; General Somers. I don't suppose they will raise anyobjection to our seeing the house. By the way, there is anotherimportant thing: there's a motor and some vehicles and horses, and afew cows, that go with the place. O'Neill used to like to have itready to go to at any time, no matter how unexpectedly. It was onlywhen War work claimed him that he let it to these people. He wasunusually well-off for an Irish landowner; it seems that his fathermade a heap of money on the Stock Exchange. "

"Horses!" said Norah blissfully. 

"And a motor. "

"That will be handy for bringing the Tired People from the station, "said she. "Horses that one could ride, I wonder, Daddy?"

"I shouldn't be surprised, " said her father, laughing. "Anyhow, Idaresay you will ride them. "

"I'll try, " said Norah modestly. "It sounds too good to be true. CanI run the fowls, Daddy? I'd like that job. "

"Yes, you can be poultry-expert, " said Mr. Linton. "As for me, Ishall control the pigs. "

"You won't be allowed to, " said Wally. "You'll find a cold, proudsteward, or bailiff, or head-keeper or something, who would die ofapoplexy if either of you did anything so lowering. You may beallowed to ride, Norah, but it won't be an Australian scurry--you'llhave to be awfully prim and proper, and have a groom trotting behindyou. With a top-hat. " He beamed upon her cheerfully. 

"Me!" said Norah, aghast. "Wally, don't talk of such horrible things. It's rubbish, isn't it, Dad?"

"Grooms and top-hats don't seem to be included in the catalogue, " saidMr. Linton, studying it. 

"Bless you, that's not necessary, " said Jim. "I mean, you needn't gettoo bucked because they're not. Public opinion will force you to getthem. Probably Nor will have to ride in a top-hat, too. "

"Never!" said Norah firmly. "Unless you promise to do it too, Jimmy. "

"My King and Country have called me, " said Jim, with unction. "Therefore I shall accompany you in uniform--and watch you trying tokeep the top-hat on. It will be ever so cheery. "

"You won't, " said Norah. "You'll be in the mud in Flanders----" andthen broke off, and changed the subject laboriously. There were fewsubjects that did not furnish more or less fun to the Linton family;but Norah never could manage to joke successfully about even theFlanders mud, which appeared to be a matter for humorous recollectionto Jim and Wally. Whenever the thought of their return to that dimand terrible region that had swallowed up so many crossed her vision, something caught at her heart and made her breath come unevenly. Sheknew they must go: she would not have had it otherwise, even had itbeen certain that they would never come back to her. But that theyshould not--so alive, so splendid in their laughing strength--theagony of the thought haunted her dreams, no matter how she strove toput it from her by day. 

Jim saw the shadow in her eyes and came to her rescue. There wasnever a moment when Jim and Norah failed to understand each other. 

"You'll want a good deal of organization about that place, Dad, " hesaid. "I suppose you'll try to grow things--vegetables and crops?"

"I've been trying to look ahead, " said Mr. Linton. "This is only thesecond year of the War, and I've never thought it would be a shortbusiness. It doesn't seem to me that England realizes war at all, sofar; everything goes on just the same--not only 'business as usual, 'but other things too: pleasure, luxuries, eating, clothes; everythingas usual. I reckon that conscription is bound to come, and before theHun gets put in his place nearly every able-bodied man in theseislands will be forced to help in the job. "

"I think you're about right, " Jim said. 

"Well, then, other things will happen when the men go. Food will getscarcer--the enemy will sink more and more ships; everything that theshops and the farmers sell will get dearer and dearer, and many thingswill cease to exist altogether. You'll find that coal will run short;and live stock will get scarce because people won't be able to getimported food stuffs that they depend on now. Oh, it's my idea thatthere are tight times coming for the people of England. And that, ofcourse, means a good deal of anxiety in planning a Home for TiredPeople. Tired People must be well fed and kept warm. "

"Can't we do it, Daddy?" queried Norah, distressed. 

"We're going to try, my girl. But I'm looking ahead. One farm comesin with the house, you know. I think we had better get a man to runthat with us on the shares system, and we'll grow every bit of foodfor the house that we can. We'll have plenty of good cows, plenty offowls, vegetables, fruit; we'll grow potatoes wherever we can put themin, and we'll make thorough provision for storing food that willkeep. "

"Eggs--in water glass, " said Norah. "And I'll make tons of jam andbottle tons of fruit and vegetables. "

"Yes. We'll find out how to preserve lots of things that we knownothing about now. I don't in the least imagine that if real shortagecame private people would be allowed to store food; but a house runfor a war purpose might be different. Anyhow, there's no shortageyet, so there's no harm in beginning as soon as we can. Of course wecan't do very much before we grow things--and that won't be until nextyear. "

"There's marmalade, " said Norah wisely. "And apple jam--and we'll dryapples. And if the hens are good there may be eggs to save. "

"Hens get discouraged in an English winter, and I'm sure I don't blamethem, " said Jim, laughing. "Never mind, Nor, they'll buck up in thespring. "

"Then there's the question of labour, " said Mr. Linton. "I'm inclinedto employ only men who wouldn't be conscripted: partially-disabledsoldiers or sailors who could still work, or men with other physicaldrawbacks. Lots of men whose hearts are too weak to go 'over the top'from the trenches could drive a plough quite well. Then, ifconscription does come, we shall be safe. "

"I'll like to do it, too, " said Norah. "It would be jolly to helpthem. "

"Of course, it will cut both ways, " Mr. Linton said. "There should beno difficulty in getting men of the kind--poor lads, there are plentyof disabled ones. I'm inclined to think that the question of womenservants will be more difficult. "

"Well, I can cook a bit, " said Norah--"thanks to Brownie. "

"My dear child, " said her father, slightly irritated--"you've no ideaof what a fairly big English house means, apart from housekeeping andmanaging. We shall need a really good housekeeper as well as a cook;and goodness knows how many maids under her. You see the thing hasgot to be done very thoroughly. If it were just you and the boys andme you'd cook our eggs and bacon and keep us quite comfortable. Butit will be quite another matter when we fill up all those rooms withTired People. "

"I suppose so, " said Norah meekly. "But I can be useful, Daddy. "

He patted her shoulder. 

"Of course you can, mate. I'm only afraid you'll have too much to do. I must say I wish Brownie were here instead of in Australia. "

"Dear old Brownie, wouldn't she love it all!" said Norah, her eyestender at the thought of the old woman who had been nurse and mother, and mainspring of the Billabong house, since Norah's own mother hadlaid her baby in her kind arms and closed tired eyes so many yearsago. "Wouldn't she love fixing the house! And how she'd hate cookingwith coal instead of wood! Only nothing would make Browniebad-tempered. "

"Not even Wal and I, " said Jim. "And I'll bet we were trying enoughto damage a saint's patience. However, as we can't have Brownie, Isuppose you'll advertise for some one else, Dad?"

"Oh, I suppose so--but sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, "returned Mr. Linton. "I've thought of nothing but this inheritance ofNorah's all day, and I'm arriving at the conclusion that it's going tobe an inheritance of something very like hard work!"

"Well, that's all right, 'cause there shouldn't be any loafers inwar-time, " Norah said. She looked out of the window. "The rain isstopping; come along, everybody, and we'll go down Regent Street on a'bus. " To do which Norah always maintained was the finest thing inLondon. 

They went down to see Norah's inheritance two days later. A quicktrain from London dropped them at a tiny station, where thestationmaster, a grizzled man apparently given over to the care ofnasturtiums, directed them to Homewood. A walk of a mile along a widewhite road brought them to big iron gates, standing open, beside atiny lodge with diamond-paned windows set in lattice-work, underoverhanging eaves; and all smothered with ivy out of which sparrowsfluttered busily. The lodgekeeper, a neat woman, looked at the partycuriously: no doubt the news of their coming had spread. 

From the lodge the drive to the house wound through the park--a widestretch of green, with noble trees, oak, beech and elm; not toweringlike Norah's native gum-trees, but flinging wide arms as though toembrace as much as possible of the beauty of the landscape. Bracken, beginning to turn gold, fringed the edge of the gravelled track. Afew sheep and cows were to be seen, across the grass. 

"Nice-looking sheep, " said Mr. Linton. 

"Yes, but you wouldn't call it over-stocked, " was Jim's comment. Jimwas not used to English parks. He was apt to think of any grass as"feed, " in terms of so many head per acre. 

The drive, well-gravelled and smoothly rolled, took them on, sauntering slowly, until it turned in a great sweep round a lawn, ending under a stone porch flung out from the front of the house. Awide porch, almost a verandah; to the delighted eyes of theAustralians, who considered verandah-less houses a curious Englishcustom, verging on lunacy. Near the house it was shut in with glass, and furnished with a few lounge chairs and a table or two. 

"That's a jolly place!" Jim said quickly. 

The house itself was long and rambling, and covered with ivy. Therewere big windows--it seemed planned to catch all the sunlight thatcould possibly be tempted into it. The lawn ended in a terrace with astone balustrade, where one could sit and look across the park and towoods beyond it--now turning a little yellow in the sunlight, and soonto glow with orange and flame-colour and bronze, when the early frostsshould have painted the dying leaves. From the lawn, to right andleft, ran shrubberies and flower-beds, with winding grass walks. 

"Why, it's lovely!" Norah breathed. She slipped a hand into herfather's arm. 

Jim rang the bell. A severe butler appeared, and explained thatGeneral and Mrs. Somers had gone out for the day, and had begged thatMr. Linton and his party would make themselves at home and explore thehouse and grounds thoroughly: an arrangement which considerablyrelieved the minds of the Australians, who had rather dreaded theprospect of "poking about" the house under the eyes of its tenants. The butler stiffened respectfully at the sight of the boys' uniforms. It appeared presently that he had been a mess-sergeant in days goneby, and now regarded himself as the personal property of the General. 

"Very sorry they are to leave the 'ouse, too, sir, " said the butler. "A nice place, but too big for them. "

"Haven't they any children?" Norah asked. 

"Only the Captain, miss, and he's in Mesopotamia, which is an 'orrible'ole for any gentleman to be stuck in, " said the butler with a finecontempt for Mesopotamia and all its works. "And the mistress istired of 'ousekeeping, so they're going to live in one of them therefamily 'otels, as they call them. " The butler sighed, and then, as ifconscious of having lapsed from correct behaviour, stiffened torigidity and became merely butler once more. "Will you see the 'ousenow, sir?"

They entered a wide hall in which was a fireplace that drew anexclamation from Norah, since she had not seen so large a one sinceshe left Billabong. This was built to take logs four feet long, tohold which massive iron dogs stood in readiness. Big leatherarmchairs and couches and tables strewn with magazines and papers, together with a faint fragrance of tobacco in the air, gave to thehall a comforting sense of use. The drawing-room, on the other hand, was chillingly splendid and formal, and looked as though no one hadever sat in the brocaded chairs: and the great dining room was almostas forbidding. The butler intimated that the General and his wifepreferred the morning-room, which proved to be a cheery place, facingsouth and west, with a great window-recess filled with floweringplants. 

"This is jolly, " Jim said. "But so would the other rooms be, if theyweren't so awfully empty. They only want people in them. "

"Tired people, " Norah said. 

"Yes, " Wally put in. "I'm blessed if I think they would stay tiredfor long, here. "

There was a long billiard-room, with a ghostly table shrouded indust-sheets; and upstairs, a range of bedrooms of all shapes andsizes, but all bright and cheerful, and looking out upon differentaspects of park and woodland. Nothing was out of order; everythingwas plain, but care and taste were evident in each detail. Then, downa back staircase, they penetrated to outer regions where the corner ofNorah's soul that Brownie had made housewifely rejoiced over a big, bright kitchen with pantries and larders and sculleries of the mostmodern type. The cook, who looked severe, was reading the _DailyMail_ in the servants' hall; here and there they had glimpses of smartmaids, irreproachably clad, who seemed of a race apart from either thecheery, friendly housemaids of Donegal, or Sarah and Mary ofBillabong, who disliked caps, but had not the slightest objection tohelping to put out a bush-fire or break in a young colt. Norah triedto picture the Homewood maids at either task, and failed signally. 

From the house they wandered out to visit well-appointed stables withroom for a dozen horses, and a garage where a big touring carstood--Norah found herself quite unable to realize that it belonged toher! But in the stables were living things that came and nuzzledsoftly in her hand with inquiring noses that were evidently accustomedto gifts of sugar and apples, and Norah felt suddenly, for the firsttime, at home. There were two good cobs, and a hunter with abeautiful lean head and splendid shoulders; a Welsh pony designed fora roomy tub-cart in the coach house; and a good old stager able foranything from carrying a nervous rider to drawing a light plough. Thecobs, the groom explained, were equally good in saddle or harness; andthere was another pony, temporarily on a visit to a vet. , which SirJohn had liked to ride. "But of course Killaloe was Sir John'sfavourite, " he added, stroking the hunter's soft brown muzzle. "Therewasn't no one could show them two the way in a big run. "

They tore themselves with difficulty from the stables, and, stillguided by the butler, who seemed to think he must not let them out ofhis sight, wandered through the grounds. Thatched cottage, orchard, and walled garden, rosery, with a pergola still covered with lateblooms, lawns and shrubberies. There was nothing very grand, but allwas exquisitely kept; and a kind of still peace brooded over thebeauty of the whole, and made War and its shadows seem very far away. The farms, well-tilled and prosperous-looking, were at the westernside of the park: Mr. Linton and Jim talked with the tenant whoselease was expiring while Norah and Wally sat on an old oak log andchatted to the butler, who told them tales of India, and askedquestions about Australia, being quite unable to realize anydifference between the natives of the two countries. "All niggers, Icalls them, " said the butler loftily. 

"That seems a decent fellow, " said Mr. Linton, as they walked backacross the park. "Hawkins, the tenant-farmer, I mean. Has he made asuccess of his place, do you know?"

"'Awkins 'as an excellent name, sir, " replied the butler. "A good, steady man, and a rare farmer. The General thinks 'ighly of 'im. 'E's sorry enough that 'is lease is up, 'Awkins is. "

"I think of renewing it, under slightly different conditions, " Mr. Linton observed. "I don't wish to turn the man out, if he will growwhat I want. "

"Well, that's good news, " said the butler heartily. "I'm sure 'Awkins'lldo anything you may ask 'im to, sir. " A sudden dull flush cameinto his cheeks, and he looked for a moment half-eagerly at Mr. Linton, as if about to speak. He checked himself, however, and theyreturned to the house, where, by the General's orders, coffee andsandwiches awaited the visitors in the morning-room. The butlerflitted about them, seeing to their comfort unobtrusively. 

"If I may make so bold as to ask, sir, " he said presently, "you'll becoming to live here shortly?"

"As soon as General Somers leaves, " Mr. Linton answered. 

The man dropped his voice, standing rigidly to attention. 

"I suppose, sir, " he said wistfully, "you would not be needing abutler?"

"A butler--why. I hadn't thought of such a thing, " said Mr. Linton, laughing. "There are not very many of you in Australia, you know. "

"But indeed, sir, you'll need one, in a place like this, " said theex-sergeant, growing bold. "Every one 'as them--and if you would beso kind as to consider if I'd do, sir? I know the place, and theGeneral 'ud give me a good record. I've been under him these fifteenyears, but he doesn't need me after he leaves here. "

"Well----" said Mr. Linton thoughtfully. "But we shan't be a smallfamily--we mean to fill this place up with officers needing rest. We're coming here to work, not to play. "

"Officers!" said the ex-sergeant joyfully. "But where'd you get anyone to 'elp you better, sir? Lookin' after officers 'as been my jobthis many a year. And I'd serve you faithful, sir. "

Norah slipped her hand into her father's arm. 

"We really would need him, I believe, Daddy, " she whispered. 

"You would, indeed, miss, " said the butler gratefully. "I could valetthe young gentlemen, and if there's any special attention needed, Icould give it. I'd do my very utmost, miss. I'm old to go outlooking for a new place at my time of life. And if you've once beenin the Army, you like to stay as near it as you can. "

"Well, we'll see, " Mr. Linton said guardedly. "I'll probably write toGeneral Somers about you. " At which the butler, forgetting hisbutlerhood, came smartly to attention--and then became covered withconfusion and concealed himself as well as he could behind acoffee-pot. 

"You might do much worse, " Jim remarked, on their way to the station. "He looks a smart man--and though this place is glorious, it's goingto take a bit of running. Keep him for a bit, at any rate, Dad. "

"I think it might be as well, " Mr. Linton answered. He turned at abend in the drive, to look back at Homewood, standing calm andpeaceful in its clustering trees. "Well, Norah, what do you think ofyour property?"

"I'm quite unable to believe it's mine, " said Norah, laughing. "But Isuppose that will come in time. However, there's one thing quitecertain, Dad--you and I will have to get very busy!"

CHAPTER III

OF LONDON AND OTHER MATTERS

Jim and Wally dropped lightly from the footboard of a swiftmotor-'bus, dodged through the traffic, and swung quickly down a quietside-street. They stopped before a stone house, where, from a windowabove, Norah watched their eager faces as Jim fitted his latchkey andopened the door. She turned back into the room with a little sigh. 

"There they are, Dad. And they're passed fit--I know. "

David Linton looked up from the elbow-splint he was making. 

"Well, it had to come, mate, " he said. 

"Yes, I know. But I hoped it wouldn't!" said poor Norahinconsistently. 

"You wouldn't like them not to go, " said her father. And then cheeryfootsteps clattered up the stairs, and the boys burst in. 

"Passed!" shouted Jim. "Fit as fiddles!"

"When?" Norah asked. 

"This day week. So we'll have nice time to settle you into Homewoodand try those horses, won't we?"

"Yes, rather!" said Norah. "Were they quite satisfied with your arm, Wally?"

"Yes, they say it's a lovely arm, " said that gentleman modestly. "Ialways knew it, but it's nice to have other people agreeing with me!And they say our lungs are beautiful too; not a trace of gas left. And--oh, you tell them, Jim!"

"And we're not to go out yet, " said Jim, grinning widely. "SpecialLewis-gun course at Aldershot first, and after that a bombing course. So there you are. " He broke off, his utterance hindered by the factthat Norah had suddenly hugged him very hard, while David Linton, jumping up, caught Wally's hand. 

"Not the Front, my dear boys!"

"Well, not yet, " said Wally, pumping the hand, and finding Norah'ssearching for his free one. "It's pretty decent, isn't it? becauseevery one knows there will be plenty of war at the Front yet. "

"Plenty indeed, " said Mr. Linton. 

"I say, buck up, old chap, " said Jim, patting Norah's shoulder veryhard. "One would think we were booked for the trenches to-night!"

"I wouldn't have made an ass of myself if you had been, " said Norah, shaking back her curls and mopping her eyes defiantly. "I wasprepared for that, and then you struck me all of a heap! Oh, Jimmy, Iam glad! I'd like to hug the War Office!"

"You're the first person I ever heard with such sentiments, " returnedher brother. "Most people want to heave bombs at it. However, they've treated us decently, and no mistake. You see, ever since Junewe've kept bothering them to go out, and then getting throat-troubleand having to cave in again; and now that we really are all right Isuppose they think they'll make sure of us. So that's that. "

"I would have been awfully wild if they hadn't passed us, " Wally said. "But since they have, and they'll put us to work, I don't weep a bitat being kept back for awhile. Lots of chaps seem to think being atthe Front is heavenly, but I'm blessed if I can see it that way. Wedidn't have very much time there, certainly, but there were only threeingredients in what we did have--mud, barbed wire, and gas. "

"Yes, and it's not much of a mixture, " said Jim. "All the same, it'sgot to be taken if necessary. Still, I'm not sorry it's postponed fora bit; there will be heaps of war yet, and meanwhile we're justlearning the trade. " He straightened his great shoulders. "I neverfelt so horribly young and ignorant as when I found grown-up men inmy charge in France. "

"Poor old Jimmy always did take his responsibilities heavily, " saidWally, laughing. 

Mr. Linton looked at his big son, remembering a certain letter fromhis commanding officer which had caused him and Norah to glow withpride; remembering, also, how the men on Billabong Station had workedunder "Master Jim. " But he knew that soldiering had always been aserious business to his boy. Personal danger had never entered intoJim's mind; but the danger of ignorant handling of his men had been atremendous thing to him. Even without "mud, barbed-wire, and gas" Jimwas never likely to enjoy war in the light-hearted way in which Wallywould certainly take it under more pleasant conditions. 

"Well--we've a week then, boys, " he said cheerfully, "and no anxietiesimmediately before us except the new cook-ladies. "

"Well, goodness knows they are enough, " Norah said fervently. 

"Anything more settled?" Jim asked. 

"I have an ecstatic letter from Allenby. " Allenby was theex-sergeant. "He seems in a condition of trembling joy at theprospect of being our butler; and, what is more to the point, he sayshe has a niece whom he can recommend as a housemaid. So I have toldhim to instal her before we get to Homewood on Thursday. Hawkins haswritten a three-volume list of things he will require for the farm, but I haven't had time to study it yet. And Norah has had lettersfrom nineteen registry-offices, all asking for a deposit!"

The boys roared. 

"That makes seventy-one, doesn't it, Nor?" Wally asked. 

"Something like it, " Norah admitted ruefully. "And the beauty of itis, not one of them will guarantee so much as a kitchenmaid. They saysadly that 'in the present crisis' it's difficult to supply servants. They don't seem to think there's any difficulty about paying themdeposit-fees. "

"That phrase, 'in the present crisis, ' is the backbone of businessto-day, " Mr. Linton said. "If a shop can't sell you anything, or ifthey mislay your property, or sell your purchase to some one else, orkeep your repairs six months and then lose them, or send in youraccount with a lot of items you never ordered or received, they simplywave 'the present crisis' at you, and all is well. "

"Yes, but they don't regard it as any excuse if you pay too little, ordon't pay at all, " Jim said. 

"Of course not--that wouldn't be business, my son, " said Wally, laughing. "The one department the Crisis doesn't hit is the one thatsends out bills. " He turned to Norah. "What about the cook-lady, Nor?"

"She's safe, " said Norah, sighing with relief. "There's an awfullyelegant letter from her, saying she'll come. "

"Oh, that's good business!" Jim said. For a fortnight Norah had hadthe unforgettable experience of sitting in registry-offices, attempting to engage a staff for Homewood. She had always beenescorted by one or more of her male belongings, and their extremeignorance of how to conduct the business had been plain to the meanestintelligence. The ex-sergeant, whose spirit of meekness in proposinghimself had been in extraordinary contrast to the condescendingtruculence of other candidates, had been thankfully retained. Therehad at times seemed a danger that instead of butler he might awake tofind himself maid-of-all-work, since not one of the applicants came upto even Norah's limited standard. Finally, however, Mr. Linton hadrefused to enter any more registry-offices or to let Norah enter them, describing them, in good set terms as abominable holes; and judiciousadvertising had secured them a housekeeper who seemed promising, and acook who insisted far more on the fact that she was a lady than on anyability to prepare meals. The family, while not enthusiastic, washopeful. 

"I hope she's all right, " Norah said doubtfully. "I suppose we can'texpect much--they all tell you that nearly every servant in Englandhas 'gone into munitions, ' which always sounds as though she'd getfired out of a trench-mortar presently. "

"Some of those we saw might be benefited by the process, " said Mr. Linton, shuddering at memories of registry-offices. 

"Well, what about the rest?--haven't you got to get a kitchenmaid andsome more housemaids or things?" queried Jim vaguely. 

"I'm not going to try here, " said Mr. Linton firmly. "Life is tooshort; I'd sooner be my own kitchenmaid than let Norah into one ofthose offices again. Allenby's niece will have to double a few partsat first, and I've written to Ireland--to Mrs. Moroney--to see if shecan find us two or three nice country girls. I believe she'll be ableto do it. Meanwhile we'll throw care to the winds. I've told Allenbyto order in all necessary stores, so that we can be sure of gettingsomething to eat when we go down; beyond that, I decline to worry, orlet Norah worry, about anything. "

"Then let's go out and play, " cried Norah, jumping up. 

"Right!" said the boys. "Where?"

"Oh, anywhere--we'll settle as we go!" said Norah airily. She fledfor her hat and coat. 

So they went to the Tower of London--a place little known to theEnglish, but of which Australians never tire--and spent a blissfulafternoon in the Armoury, examining every variety of weapons andarmament, from Crusaders' chain-mail to twentieth-century rifles. There is no place so full of old stories and of history--history thatsuddenly becomes quite a different matter from something you learn bythe half-page out of an extremely dull book at school. This ishistory alive, and the dim old Tower becomes peopled with gay andgallant figures clad in shining armour, bent on knightly adventures. There you see mail shirts of woven links that slip like silken meshthrough the fingers, yet could withstand the deadliest thrust of adagger; maces with spiked heads, that only a mighty man could swing;swords such as that with which Coeur-de-Lion could slice through sucha mace as though it were no more than a carrot--sinuous blades thatSaladin loved, that would sever a down cushion flung in the air. Daggers and poignards, too, of every age, needle-pointed yet viciouslystrong, with exquisitely inlaid hilts and fine-lined blades; longrapiers that brought visions of gallants with curls and lace stocksand silken hose, as ready to fight as to dance or to make a poem to afair lady's eyebrow. Helmets of every age, with visors behind whichthe knights of old had looked grimly as they charged down the lists at"gentle and joyous passages of arms. " Horse-armour of amazingweight--"I always pictured those old knights prancing out on athirteen-stone hack, but you'd want a Suffolk Punch to carry thatironmongery!" said Wally. So through room after room, each full ofbrave ghosts of the past, looking benevolently at the tallboy-soldiers from the New World; until at length came closing-time, and they went out reluctantly, across the flagged yard where pooryoung Anne Boleyn laid her gentle head on the block; where the ravenshop and caw to-day as their ancestors did in the sixteenth centurywhen she walked across from her grim prison that still bears on itswall a scrawled "Anne. " A dull little prison-room, it must have been, after the glitter and pomp of castles and palaces--with only therugged walls of the Tower Yard to look upon from the tiny window. 

"And she must have had such a jolly good time at first, " said Wally. "Old Henry VIII was very keen on her, wasn't he? And then she wasonly his second wife--by the time he'd had six they must have begun tofeel themselves rather two-a-penny!"

They found a 'bus that took them by devious ways through the City; thepart of London that many Londoners never see, since it is anotherworld from the world of Bond Street and Oxford Street, with theirnewness and their glittering shops. But to the queer folk who comefrom overseas, it is the real London, and they wander in its narrowstreets and link fingers with the past. Old names look down from thesmoke-grimed walls: Black Friars and White Friars, Bread Street, St. Martin's Lane, Leadenhall Street, Temple Bar: the hurrying crowd ofto-day fades, and instead come ghosts of armed men and ofleather-jerkined 'prentices, less ready to work than to fight; ofgallants with ruffs, and fierce sailor-men of the days of Queen Bess, home from the Spanish Main with ships laden with gold, swaggering upfrom the Docks to spend their prize-money as quickly as they earnedit. Visions of dark nights, with link-boys running besidechair-bearers, carrying exquisite ladies to routs and masques: offoot-pads, slinking into dark alleys and doorways as the watch comestramping down the street. Visions of the press-gang, hunting stoutlads, into every tavern, whisking them from their hiding-places andoff to the ships: to disappear with never a word of farewell until, years later, bronzed and tarred and strange of speech, they returnedto astounded families who had long mourned them as dead. Visions ofQueen Bess, with her haughty face and her red hair, riding through theCity that adored her, her white palfrey stepping daintily through thecheering crowd: and great gentlemen beside her--Raleigh, Essex, Howard. They all wander together through the grey streets where thecenturies-old buildings tower overhead: all blending together, aformless jumble of the Past, and yet very much alive: and it does notseem to matter in the least that you look down upon them from arattling motor-'bus that leaves pools of oil where perchance lay thepuddle over which Raleigh flung his cloak lest his queen's slippershould be soiled. Very soon we shall look down on the City fromairships while conductors come and stamp our tickets with abell-punch: but the old City will be unchanged, and it will be only wewho look upon it who will pass like shadows from its face. 

The Australians left their 'bus in Fleet Street, and dived down anarrow lane to a low doorway with the sign of the _CheshireCheese_--the old inn with sanded floor and bare oak benches andtables, where Dr. Johnson and his followers used to meet, to dine andafterwards to smoke long churchwarden pipes and talk, as Wally said, "such amazing fine language that it made you feel a littlelight-headed. " It is to be feared that the Australians had not anygreat enthusiasm for Dr. Johnson. They had paid a visit of inspectionto the room upstairs where the great man used to take his ease, butnot one of them had felt any desire to sit in his big armchair. 

"You don't understand what a chance you're scorning, " Mr. Linton hadsaid, laughing, as his family turned from the seat of honour. "Why, good Americans die happy if they can only say they have sat in Dr. Johnson's chair!"

"_I_ think he was an ill-mannered old man!" quoth Norah, with her nosetilted. Which seemed to end the matter, so far as they wereconcerned. 

But if the Billabong family took no interest in Dr. Johnson, they hada deep affection for the old inn itself. They loved its dim roomswith their blackened oak, and it was a never-ending delight to watchthe medley of people who came there for meals: actors, artists, literary folk, famous and otherwise; Americans, foreigners, Colonials;politicians, fighting men of both Services, busy City men: foreverybody comes, sooner or later, to the old _Cheshire Cheese_. Beingpeople of plain tastes they liked the solid, honest meals--especiallysince increasing War-prices were already inducing hotels andrestaurants everywhere to disguise a tablespoonful of hashed oddmentsunder an elegant French name and sell it for as much money as a dinnerfor a hungry man. Norah used to fight shy of the famous"lark-pudding" until it was whispered to her that what was not goodbeef steaks in the dish was nothing more than pigeon or possibly evensparrow! after which she enjoyed it, and afterwards pilgrimaged to thekitchen to see the great blue bowls, as big as a wash-hand basin, inwhich the puddings have been made since Dr. Johnson's time, and thegreat copper in which they are boiled all night. Legend says that anyone who can eat three helpings of lark-pudding is presented with allthat remains: but no one has ever heard of a hero able to manage histhird plateful!

Best of all the Billabong folk loved the great cellars under the inn, which were once the cloisters of an old monastery: where there areunexpected steps, and dim archways, and winding paths where it is veryeasy to imagine that you see bare-footed friars with brown habits andrope girdles pacing slowly along. There they bought quaint brown jarsand mustard-pots of the kind that are used, and have always been used, on the tables above. But best of all were the great oaken beams abovethem, solid as England itself, but blackened and charred by the GreatFire of 1666. Norah used to touch the burned surface gently, wondering if it was not a dream--if the hand on the broken charcoalwere really her own, more used to Bosun's bridle on the wide plains ofBillabong!

There were not many people in the room as they came in this evening, for it was early; dinner, indeed, was scarcely ready, and a fewcustomers sat about, reading evening papers and discussing the warnews. In one corner were an officer and a lady; and at sight of theformer Jim and Wally saluted and broke into joyful smiles. Theofficer jumped up and greeted them warmly. 

"Hullo, boys!" he said. "I'm delighted to see you. Fit again?--youlook it!"

"Dad, this is Major Hunt, " Jim said, dragging his father forward. "You remember, of our regiment. And my sister, sir. I say, I'mawfully glad to see you!"

"Come and meet my wife, " said Major Hunt. "Stella, here are the twoyoung Australians that used to make my life a burden!"

Everybody shook hands indiscriminately, and presently they joinedforces round a big table, while Jim and Wally poured out questionsconcerning the regiment and every one in it. 

"Most of them are going strong, " Major Hunt said--"we have a good fewcasualties, of course, but we haven't lost many officers--most of themhave come back. I think all your immediate chums are still in France. But I've been out of it myself for two months--stopped a bit shrapnelwith my hand, and it won't get better. " He indicated a bandaged lefthand as he spoke, and they realized that his face was worn, and deeplylined with pain. "It's stupid, " he said, and laughed. "But when areyou coming back? We've plenty of work for you. "

They told him, eagerly. 

"Well, you might just as well learn all you can before you go out, "Major Hunt said. "The war's not going to finish this winter, or thenext. Indeed, I wouldn't swear that my six-year-old son, who isdrilling hard, won't have time to be in at the finish!" At which Mrs. Hunt shuddered and said, "Don't be so horrible, Douglas!" She was aslight, pretty woman, cheery and pleasant, and she made them all laughby her stories of work in a canteen. 

"All the soldiers used to look upon us as just part of the furniture, "she said. "They used to rush in, in a break between parades, and givetheir orders in a terrible hurry. As for saying "Please--well----"

"You ought to have straightened them up, " said Major Hunt, with agood-tempered growl. 

"Ah, poor boys, they hadn't time! The Irish regiments were better, but then it isn't any trouble for an Irishman to be polite; it comesto him naturally. But those stolid English country lads can't saythings easily. " She laughed. "I remember a young lance-corporal whoused often to come to our house to see my maid. He was terribly shy, and if I chanced to go into the kitchen he always bolted like a rabbitinto the scullery. The really terrible thing was that sometimes I hadto go on to the scullery myself, and run him to earth among thesaucepans, when he would positively shake with terror. I used towonder how he ever summoned up courage to speak to Susan, let alone toface the foe when he went to France!"

"That's the sort that gets the V. C. Without thinking about it, " saidMajor Hunt, laughing. 

"I was very busy in the Canteen one morning--it was a cold, wet day, and the men rushed us for hot drinks whenever they had a moment. Presently a warrior dashed up to the counter, banged down his pennyand said 'Coffee!' in a voice of thunder. I looked up and caught hiseye as I was turning to run for the coffee--and it was mylance-corporal!"

"What did you do?"

"We just gibbered at each other across the counter for a moment, Ibelieve--and I never saw a face so horror-stricken! Then he turnedand fled, leaving his penny behind him. Poor boy--I gave it to Susanto return to him. "

"Didn't you ever make friends with any of them, Mrs. Hunt?" Norahasked. 

"Oh yes! when we had time, or when they had. But often one was on therush for every minute of our four-hour shifts. "

"Jolly good of you, " said Jim. 

"Good gracious, no! It was a very poor sort of war-work, but busymothers with only one maid couldn't manage more. And I loved it, especially in Cork: the Irish boys were dears, and so keen. I had agreat respect for those boys. The lads who enlisted in England hadall their chums doing the same thing, and everybody patted them on theback and said how noble they were, and gave them parties and speechesand presents. But the Irish boys enlisted, very often, dead againstthe wishes of their own people, and against their priest--and you'vegot to live in Ireland to know what _that_ means. "

"The wonder to me was, always, the number of Irishmen who did enlist, "said Major Hunt. "And aren't they fighters!"

"They must be great, " Jim said. "You should hear our fellows talkabout the Dublins and the Munsters in Gallipoli. " His face clouded:it was a grievous matter to Jim that he had not been with those otherAustralian boys who had already made the name of Anzac ring throughthe world. 

"Yes, you must be very proud of your country, " Mrs. Hunt said, withher charming smile. "I tell my husband that we must emigrate thereafter the war. It must be a great place in which to bring upchildren, judging by all the Australians one sees. "

"Possibly--but a man with a damaged hand isn't wanted there, " MajorHunt said curtly. 

"Oh, you'll be all right long before we want to go out, " was hiswife's cheerful response. But there was a shadow in her eyes. 

Wally did not notice any shadow. He had hero-worshipped Major Hunt inhis first days of soldiering, when that much-enduring officer, a Monsveteran with the D. S. O. To his credit, had been chiefly responsiblefor the training of newly-joined subalterns: and Major Hunt, in histurn, had liked the two Australian boys, who, whatever their faults ofcarelessness or ignorance, were never anything but keen. Now, in hisdelight at meeting his senior officer again, Wally chattered away likea magpie, asking questions, telling Irish fishing-stories, and otherstories of adventures in Ireland, hazarding wild opinions about thewar, and generally manifesting a cheerful disregard of the fact thatthe tired man opposite him was not a subaltern as irresponsible ashimself. Somehow, the weariness died out of Major Hunt's eyes. Hebegan to joke in his turn, and to tell queer yarns of the trenches:and presently, indeed, the whole party seemed to be infected by thesame spirit, so that the old walls of the _Cheshire Cheese_ echoedlaughter that must have been exceedingly discouraging to the ghost ofDr. Johnson, if, as is said, that unamiable maker of dictionarieshaunts his ancient tavern. 

"Well, you've made us awfully cheerful, " said Major Hunt, when dinnerwas over, and they were dawdling over coffee. "Stella and I werefeeling rather down on our luck, I believe, when you appeared, and nowwe've forgotten all about it. Do you always behave like this, MissLinton?"

"No, I have to be very sedate, or I'd never keep my big family inorder, " said Norah, laughing. "You've no idea what a responsibilitythey are. "

"Haven't I?" said he. "You forget I have a houseful of my own. "

"Tell me about them, " Norah asked. "Do you keep them in order?"

"We say we do, for the sake of discipline, but I'm not too sure aboutit, " said Mrs. Hunt. "As a matter of fact, I am very strict, butDouglas undoes all my good work. Is it really true that he is strictin the regiment, Mr. Jim?"

Jim and Wally shuddered. 

"I'd find it easier to tell you if he wasn't here, " Jim said. "Thereare awful memories, aren't there, Wal?"

"Rather!" said Wally feelingly. "Do you remember the day I didn'tsalute on parade?"

"I believe your mangled remains were carried off the barrack-square, "said Jim, with a twinkle. "I expect I should have been one of thefatigue-part, only that was the day I was improperly dressed!"

"What, you didn't come on parade in a bath-towel, did you?" his fatherasked. 

"No, but I had a shoulder-strap undone--it's nearly as bad, isn't it, sir?" Jim grinned at Major Hunt. 

"If I could remember the barrack-square frown, at the moment, I wouldassume it, " said that officer, laughing. "Never mind, I'll deal withyou both when we all get back. "

"You haven't told me about the family, " Norah persisted. "The familyyou are strict with, I mean, " she added kindly. 

"You have no more respect for a field-officer than your brother has, "said he. 

"Whisper!" said Mrs. Hunt. "He was only a subaltern himself beforethe war!"

Her husband eyed her severely. 

"You'll get put under arrest if you make statements liable to exciteindiscipline among the troops!" he said. "Don't listen to her, MissLinton, and I'll tell you about the family she spoils. There'sGeoffrey, who is six, and Alison, who's five--at least I think she'sfive, isn't she, Stella?"

"Much you know of your babies!" said his wife, with a fine scorn. "Alison won't be five for two months. "

"Hasn't she a passion for detail!" said her husband admiringly. "Well, five-ish, Miss Linton. And finally there's a two-year-oldnamed Michael. And when they all get going together they make rathermore noise than a regiment. But they're rather jolly, and I hopeyou'll come and see them. "

"Oh, do, " said Mrs. Hunt. "Geoff would just love to hear aboutAustralia. He told me the other day that when he grows up he means togo out there and be a kangaroo!"

"I suppose you know you must never check a child's natural ambitions!"Mr. Linton told her gravely. 

"Was that your plan?" she laughed. 

"Oh, my pair hadn't any ambitions beyond sitting on horses perpetuallyand pursuing cattle!" said Mr. Linton. "That was very useful to me, so I certainly didn't check it. "

"H'm!" said Jim, regarding him inquiringly. "I wonder how your theorywould have lasted, Dad, if I'd grown my hair long and taken topainting?"

"That wouldn't have been a natural ambition at all, so I should havebeen able to deal with it with a clear conscience, " said his father, laughing. "In any case, the matter could safely have been left toNorah--she would have been more than equal to it. "

"I trust so, " said Norah pleasantly. "_You_ with long hair, Jimmy!"

"It's amazing--and painful--to see the number of fellows who take longhair into khaki with them, " said Major Hunt. "The old Army custom wasto get your hair cut over the comb for home service and under the combfor active service. Jolly good rule, too. But the subaltern of theNew Army goes into the trenches with locks like a musician's. Atleast, too many of him does. "

"Never could understand any one caring for the bother of long hair, "said Jim, running his hand over his dark, close-cropped poll. "I say, isn't it time we made a move, if we're going to a show?" He lookedhalf-shyly at Mrs. Hunt. "Won't you and the Major come with us? It'sbeen so jolly meeting you. "

"Good idea!" said Mr. Linton, cutting across Mrs. Hunt's protest. "Docome--I know Norah is longing to be asked to meet the family, and thatwill give you time to fix it up. " He over-ruled any furtherobjections by the simple process of ignoring them, whereupon the Huntswisely gave up manufacturing any more: and presently they haddiscovered two taxis, Norah and her father taking Mrs. Hunt in thefirst, leaving the three soldiers to follow in the second. They slidoff through the traffic of Fleet Street. 

"We really shouldn't let you take possession of us like this, " saidMrs. Hunt a little helplessly. "But it has been so lovely to seeDouglas cheerful again. He has not laughed so much for months. "

"You are anxious about his hand?" David Linton asked. 

"Yes, very. He has had several kinds of treatment for it, but itdoesn't seem to get better; and the pain is wearing. The doctors sayhis best chance is a thorough change, as well as treatment, but wecan't manage it--the three babies are expensive atoms. Now there is aprobability of another operation to his hand, and he has been sodepressed about it, that I dragged him out to dinner in the hope ofcheering him up. But I don't think I should have succeeded if wehadn't met you. "

"It was great luck for us, " Norah said. "The boys have always told usso much of Major Hunt. He was ever so good to them. "

"He told me about them, too, " said Mrs. Hunt. "He liked them becausehe said he never succeeded in boring them!"

"Why, you couldn't bore Jim and Wally!" said Norah, laughing. Then agreat idea fell upon her, and she grew silent, leaving theconversation to her companions as the taxi whirred on its swift waythrough the crowded streets until they drew up before the theatre. 

In the vestibule she found her father close to her and endeavoured toconvey many things to him by squeezing his arm very hard among thecrowd, succeeding in so much that Mr. Linton knew perfectly well thatNorah was the victim of a new idea--and was quite content to wait tobe told what it was. But there was no chance of that until theevening was over, and they had bade farewell to the Hunts, arrangingto have tea with them next day: after which a taxi bore them to theKensington flat, and they gathered in the sitting-room while Norahbrewed coffee over a spirit-lamp. 

"I'm jolly glad we met the Hunts, " Jim said. "But isn't it cruel luckfor a man like that to be kept back by a damaged hand!"

"Rough on Mrs. Hunt, too, " Wally remarked. "She looked about as seedyas he did. "

"Daddy----!" said Norah eagerly. 

David Linton laughed. 

"Yes, I knew you had one, " he said, "Out with it--I'll listen. "

"They're Tired People, " said Norah: and waited. 

"Yes, they're certainly tired enough, " said her father. "But thechildren, Norah? I don't think we could possibly take in littlechildren, considering the other weary inmates. "

"No, I thought that too, " Norah answered eagerly. "But don't youremember the cottage, Daddy? Why shouldn't they have it?"

"By Jove!" said Jim. "That jolly little thatched place?"

"Yes--it has several rooms. They could let their own house, and thenthey'd save heaps of money. It would get them right out of London;and Mrs. Hunt told me that London is the very worst place for him--thedoctors said so. "

"That is certainly an idea, " Mr. Linton said. "It's near enough toLondon for Hunt to run up for his treatment. We could see that theywere comfortable. " He smiled at Norah, whose flushed face was dimlyvisible through the steam of the coffee. "I think it would be rathera good way to begin our job, Norah. "

"It would be so nice that it doesn't feel like any sort of work!" saidNorah. 

"I think you may find a chance of work; they have three smallchildren, and not much money, " said her father prophetically. 

"I say, I hope the Major would agree, " Jim put in. "I know he'shorribly proud. "

"We'll kidnap the babies, and then they'll just have to come, " Norahlaughed. 

"Picture Mr. Linton, " said Wally happily, "carrying on the good workby stalking through London with three kids sticking out of hispockets--followed by Norah, armed with feeding-bottles!"

"Wounded officer and wife hard in pursuit armed with shot guns!"supplemented Jim. "I like your pacifist ideas of running a home forTired People, I must say!"

"Why, they would forget that they had ever been tired!" said Norah. "I think it's rather a brilliant notion--there certainly wouldn't beanother convalescent home in England run on the same lines. Butyou're not good on matters of detail--people don't havefeeding-bottles for babies of that age. "

"I'm not well up in babies, " said Wally. "Nice people, but I likesomebody else to manage 'em. I thought bottles were pretty safe untilthey were about seven!"

"Well, we'll talk it over with the Hunts to-morrow--the cottage, notthe bottles, " Mr. Linton said. "Meanwhile, it's bed-time, sogood-night, everybody. " He dispersed the assembly by the simpleprocess of switching off the electric light--smiling to himself as Jimand Norah two-stepped, singing, down the tiny corridor in thedarkness. 

But the mid-day post brought a worried little note from Mrs. Hunt, putting off the party. Her husband had had a bad report on his handthat morning, and was going into hospital for an immediate operation. She hoped to fix a day later on--the note was a little incoherent. Norah had a sudden vision of the three small Hunts "who made rathermore noise than a regiment" rampaging round the harassed mother as shetried to write. 

"Perhaps it's as well--we'll study the cottage, and make sure thatit's all right for them, " said her father. "Then we'll kidnap them. Meanwhile we'll go and send them a big hamper of fruit, and put somesweets in for the babies. " A plan which was so completely afterNorah's heart that she quite forgot her disappointment. 

CHAPTER IV

SETTLING IN

They bade good-bye to the flat early next morning and went down toHomewood through a dense fog that rolled up almost to the carriagewindows like masses of white wool. At the station the closed carriagewaited for them, with the brown cobs pawing the ground impatiently. General Somers' chauffeur had gone with his master, and so far theyhad not succeeded in finding a substitute, but the groom and coachman, who were also gardeners in their spare time, considered themselvespart and parcel of the place, and had no idea of changing their home. 

"The cart for the luggage will be here presently, sir, " Jones, the oldcoachman, told Mr. Linton. So they left a bewildering assortment ofsuit-cases and trunks piled up on the platform in the care of anancient porter, and packed themselves into the carriage. Norah waswont to say that the only vehicle capable of accommodating her threelong men-folk comfortably was an omnibus. The fog was lifting as theyrolled smoothly up the long avenue; and just as they came within sightof the house a gleam of pale sunlight found its way through the mistyclouds and lingered on the ivy-clad gables. The front door was flungwide to welcome them: on the steps hovered the ex-sergeant, wearing adiscreet smile. Behind him fluttered a print dress and a white apron, presumably worn by his niece. 

"I say, Norah, don't you feel like the Queen of Sheba entering herancestral halls?" whispered Wally wickedly, as they mounted the steps. 

"If she felt simply horrible, then I do!" returned Norah. "I supposeI'll get used to it in time, but at present I want a hollow log tocrawl into!"

Allenby greeted them respectfully. 

"We did not know what rooms you would like, sir, " he said. "They areall practically ready, of course. My niece, miss, thought you mightprefer the blue bedroom. Her name is Sarah, miss. "

"We don't want the best rooms--the sunniest, I mean, " Norah said. "They must be for the Tired People, mustn't they, Dad?"

"Well, there are no Tired People, except ourselves, at present, " saidher father, laughing. "So if you have a fancy for any room, you hadbetter take it, don't you think?"

"Well, we'll tour round, and see, " said Norah diplomatically, withmental visions of the sudden "turning-out" of rooms should wearyguests arrive. "It might be better to settle down from the first aswe mean to be. "

"A lady has come, miss, " said Allenby. "I understood her to say shewas the cook, but perhaps I made a mistake?" He paused, questioningly, his face comically puzzled. 

"Oh--Miss de Lisle?"

"Yes, miss. "

"Oh, yes, she's the cook, " said Norah. "And the housekeeper--Mrs. Atkins?"

"No one else has arrived, miss. "

"Well, I expect she'll come, " said Norah. "At least she promised. "

"Miss de Lisle, miss, asked for her kitchenmaid. "

"There isn't one, at present, " said Norah, feeling a little desperate. 

"Oh!" said Allenby, looking blank. "I--I am afraid, miss, that thelady expects one. "

"Well, she can't have one until one comes, " said Mr. Linton. "Cheerup, Norah, I'll talk to Miss de Lisle. "

"I'll be the kitchenmaid, if necessary, " said Wally cheerfully. "Whatdoes one do?"

Allenby shuddered visibly. 

"My niece, I am sure, will do all she can, sir, " he said. His gazedwelt on Wally's uniform; it was easy to see him quailing in spiritbefore the vision of an officer with a kitchen mop. "Perhaps, miss, if you would like to see the rooms?"

They trooped upstairs, the silent house suddenly waking to life withthe quick footsteps and cheery voices. The big front bedrooms were atonce put aside for future guests. Norah fell in love with, andpromptly appropriated, a little room that appeared to have been tuckedinto a corner by the architect, as an afterthought. It was curiouslyshaped, with a quaint little nook for the bed, and had a big windowfurnished with a low cushioned seat, wide enough for any one to curlup with a book. Mr. Linton and the boys selected rooms principallyremarkable for bareness. Jim had a lively hatred for furniture; theyleft him discussing with Allenby the question of removing aspindle-legged writing table. Mr. Linton and Norah went downstairs, with sinking hearts, to encounter Miss de Lisle. 

On the way appeared Sarah; very clean and starched as to dress, verypink and shiny as to complexion. Her hair was strained back from herforehead so tightly it appeared to be pulling her eyes up. 

"Oh, Sarah, " said Mr. Linton, pausing. 

"Yes, sir, " said Sarah meekly. 

"You may be required to help the cook for a few days untilwe--er--until the staff is complete, " said her employer. "Your uncletells me you will have no objection. "

"It being understood, sir, as it is only tempory, " said Sarah firmly. 

"Oh, quite, " said Mr. Linton hurriedly. 

"And of course I will help you with the housework, Sarah, " put inNorah. 

Sarah looked more wooden than before. 

"Thank you, miss, I'm sure, " she returned. 

They went on. 

"Doesn't she make you feel a worm!" said Norah. 

"This is a terrible business, Norah!" said Mr. Linton fervently. "Ididn't guess what Brownie was saving me from, all these years. "

They found Miss de Lisle in the kitchen, where an enormous rangeglowed like a fiery furnace, in which respect Miss de Lisle ratherresembled it. She was a tall, stout woman, dressed in an overallseveral sizes too small for her. The overall was rose-coloured, andMiss de Lisle was many shades deeper in hue. She accepted theirgreetings without enthusiasm, and plunged at once into a catalogue ofgrievances. 

"The butler tells me there is no kitchenmaid, " she boomed wrathfully. "And I had not expected such an antiquated range. Nor could Ipossibly manage with these saucepans"--sweeping a scornful handtowards an array which seemed to the hapless Lintons to err only onthe side of magnificence. "There will be a number of necessary items. And where am I to sit? You will hardly expect me to herd with theservants. "

"It would be rough on them!" rose to Norah's lips. But she prudentlykept the reflection to herself. 

"To sit?" echoed Mr. Linton. "Why, I really hadn't thought of it. "His brow cleared. "Oh--there is the housekeeper's room. "

"And who is the housekeeper? Is she a lady?"

"She hasn't said so, yet, " said Mr. Linton. It was evident that heconsidered this a point in the absent housekeeper's favour. Miss deLisle flamed anew. 

"I cannot sit with your housekeeper, " she averred. "You mustremember, Mr. Linton, that I told you when engaging with you, that Iexpected special treatment. "

"And _you_ must remember, " said Mr. Linton, with sudden firmness, "that we ourselves have not been half an hour in the house, and thatwe must have time to make arrangements. As for what you require, wewill see into that later. "

Miss de Lisle sniffed. 

"It's not what I am accustomed to, " she said. "However, I will wait. And the kitchenmaid?"

"I can't make a kitchenmaid out of nothing, " said Mr. Linton gloomily. "I hope to hear of one in a day or two; I have written to Ireland. "

"To Ireland!" ejaculated Miss de Lisle in accents of horror. "My dearsir, do you know what Irish maids are like?"

"They're the nicest maids I know, " said Norah, speaking for the firsttime. "And so kind and obliging. "

"H'm, " sniffed the cook-lady. "But you are not sure of obtaining evenone of these treasures?"

"Well, we'll all help, " said Norah. "Sarah will give you a hand untilwe get settled, and my brother and Mr. Meadows and I can do anything. There can't be such an awful lot of work!" She stopped. Miss deLisle was regarding her with an eye in which horror and amazement weremingled. 

"But we don't _do_ such things in England!" she gasped. "Yourbrother! And the other officer! In my kitchen, may I ask?"

"Well, one moment you seem afraid of too much work, and the next, oftoo much help, " said Norah, laughing. "You'd find them very useful. "

"I trust that I have never been afraid of work, " said Miss de Lisleseverely. "But I have my position to consider. There are dutieswhich belong to it, and other duties which do not. My province iscooking. Cooking. And nothing else. Who, I ask, is to keep mykitchen clean?"

"Me, if necessary, " said a voice in which Allenby the butler wasclearly merged in Allenby the sergeant. "Begging your pardon, sir. "He was deferential again--save for the eye with which he glared uponMiss de Lisle. "I think, perhaps, between me and Sarah and--er--thislady, we can arrange matters for the present without troubling you orMiss Linton. "

"Do, " said his employer thankfully. He beat a retreat, followed byNorah--rather to Norah's disappointment. She was beginning to feelwarlike, and hankered for the battle, with Allenby ranged on her side. 

"I'm going to love Allenby, " she said with conviction, as they gainedthe outer regions. 

"He's a trump!" said her father. "But isn't that a terrible woman, Norah!"

"Here's another, anyhow, " said Norah with a wild inclination togiggle. 

A dismal cab halted at a side entrance, and the driver was strugglingwith a stout iron trunk. The passenger, a tall, angular woman, wasstanding in the doorway. 

"The housekeeper!" breathed Mr. Linton faintly. "Do you feel equal toher, Norah?" He fled, with disgraceful weakness, to thebilliard-room. 

"Good morning, " Norah said, advancing. 

"Good morning, " returned the newcomer, with severity. "I have rungthree times. "

"Oh--we're a little shorthanded, " said Norah, and began to gigglehopelessly, to her own dismay. Her world seemed suddenly full ofimportant upper servants, with no one to wait on them. It was ratherterrible, but beyond doubt it was very funny--to an Australian mind. 

The housekeeper gazed at her with a sort of cold anger. 

"I'm afraid I don't know which is your room, " Norah said, recoveringunder that fish-like glare. "You see, we've only just come. I'llsend Allenby. " She hurried off, meeting the butler in the passage. 

"Oh, Allenby, " she said; "it's the housekeeper. And her trunk. Allenby, what does a housekeeper do? She won't clean the kitchen forMiss de Lisle, will she?"

"I'm afraid not, miss, " said Allenby. His manner grew confidential;had he not been so correct a butler, Norah felt that he might havepatted her head. "Now look, miss, " he said. "You just leave themwomen to me; I'll fix them. And don't you worry. "

"Oh, thank you, Allenby, " said Norah gratefully. She followed in herfather's wake, leaving the butler to advance upon the wrathful figurethat yet blocked the side doorway. 

In the billiard-room all her men-folk were gathered, looking guilty. 

"It's awful to see you all huddling together here out of the storm!"said Norah, laughing. "Isn't it all terrible! Do you think we'llever settle down, Daddy?"

"Indeed, I wouldn't be too certain, " responded Mr. Linton gloomily. "How did you get on, Norah? Was she anything like Miss de Lisle?That's an appalling woman! She ought to stand for Parliament!"

"She's not like Miss de Lisle, but I'm not sure that she's any nicer, "said Norah. "She's very skinny and vinegarish. I say, Daddy, aren'twe going to have a wild time!"

"Well, if she and the cook-lady get going the encounter should beworth seeing, " remarked Jim. "Talk about the Kilkenny cats!"

"I only hope it will come off before we go, " said Wally gleefully. "We haven't had much war yet, have we, Jim? I think we deserve to seea little. "

"I should much prefer it in some one else's house, " said Mr. Lintonwith haste. "But it's bound to come, I should think, and then I shallbe called in as referee. Well, Australia was never like this. Still, there are compensations. "

He went out, returning in a moment with a battered hat of soft greyfelt. 

"Now you'll be happy!" said Norah, laughing. 

"I am, " responded her father. He put on the hat with tender care. "Ihaven't been so comfortable since I was in Ireland. It's one of thehorrors of war that David Linton of Billabong has worn a stiff bowlerhat for nearly a year!"

"Never mind, no one in Australia would believe it unless they saw itphotographed!" said Jim soothingly. "And it hasn't had to be atop-hat, so you really haven't had to bear the worst. "

"That is certainly something, " said his father. "In the dim future Isuppose you and Norah may get married; but I warn you here and nowthat you needn't expect me to appear in a top-hat. However, there'sno need to face these problems yet, thank goodness. Suppose we leavethe kitchen to fight it out alone, and go and inspect the cottage?"

It nestled at the far side of a belt of shrubbery: a cheery, thatchedplace, with wide casement windows that looked out on a trim stretch ofgrass. At one side there was actually a little verandah! a sight sounusual in England that the Australians could scarcely believe theireyes. Certainly it was only a very tiny verandah. 

Within, all was bright and cheery and simple. The cottage had beenused as a "barracks" when the sons of a former owner had brought homeboy friends. Two rooms were fitted with bunks built against the wall, as in a ship's cabin: there was a little dining-room, plainlyfurnished, and a big sitting-room that took up the whole width of thebuilding, and had casement windows on three sides. There was a roomykitchen, from which a ladder-like staircase ascended to big attics, one of which was fitted as a bedroom. 

"It's no end of a jolly place, " was Jim's verdict. "I don't know thatI wouldn't rather live here than in your mansion, Norah; but I supposeit wouldn't do. "

"I think it would be rather nice, " Norah said. "But you can't, because we want it for the Hunts. And it will be splendid for them, won't it, Dad?"

"Yes, I think it will do very well, " said Mr. Linton. "We'll get thehousekeeper to come down and make sure that it has enough pots andpans and working outfit generally. "

"And then we'll go up to London and kidnap Mrs. Hunt and the babies, "said Norah, pirouetting gently. "Now, shall we go and see thehorses?"

They spent a blissful half-hour in the stables, and arranged to ridein the afternoon--the old coachman was plainly delighted at theabsence of a chauffeur, and displayed his treasures with a pride towhich he had long been a stranger. 

"The 'orses 'aven't 'ad enough to do since Sir John used to come, " hesaid. "The General didn't care for them--an infantry gent he musthave been--and it was always the motor for 'im. We exercised 'em, ofcourse, but it ain't the same to the 'orses, and don't they know it!"

"Of course they do. " Norah caressed Killaloe's lean head. 

"You'll hunt him, sir, won't you, this season?" asked Jones anxiously. "The meets ain't what they was, of course, but there's a few goes outstill. The Master's a lady--Mrs. Ainslie; her husband's in France. He's 'ad the 'ounds these five years. "

"Oh, we'll hunt, won't we, Dad?" Norah's face glowed as she lifted it. 

"Rather!" said Jim. "Of course you will. What about the otherhorses, Jones? Can they jump?"

"To tell you the truth, sir, " said Jones happily, "there's not one ofthem that can't. Even the cobs ain't too bad; and the black ponythat's at the vet. 's, 'e's a flyer. 'E'll be 'ome to-morrow; the vet. Sent me word yesterday that 'is shoulder's all right. Strained it abit, 'e did. Of course they ain't made hunters, like Killaloe; butthey're quick and clever, and once you know the country, and the shortcuts, and the gaps, you can generally manage to see most of a run. "He sighed ecstatically. "Eh, but it'll be like old times to get readyagain on a hunting morning!"

The gong sounded from the house, and they bade the stables a reluctantgood-bye. Lunch waited in the morning-room; there was a pleasantsparkle of silver and glass on a little table in the window. Andthere was no doubt that Miss de Lisle could cook. 

"If her temper were as good as her pastry, I should say we had found atreasure, " said Mr. Linton, looking at the fragments which remained ofa superlative apple-pie. "Let's hope that Mrs. Moroney will discovera kitchenmaid or two, and that they will induce her to overlook ourother shortcomings. "

"I'm afraid we'll never be genteel enough for her, " said Norah, shaking her curly head. "And the other servants will all hate herbecause she thinks they aren't fit for her to speak to. If she onlyknew how much nicer Allenby is!"

"Or Brownie, " said Wally loyally. "Brownie could beat that pie withone hand tied behind her. "

Allenby entered--sympathy on every line of his face. 

"The 'ousekeeper--Mrs. Atkins--would like to see you, sir. Or MissLinton. And so would Miss de Lisle. "

But Miss de Lisle was on his heels, breathing threatenings andslaughter. 

"There must be some arrangement made as to my instructions, " sheboomed. "Your housekeeper evidently does not understand my position. She has had the impertinence to address me as 'Cook. ' Cook!" Shepaused for breath, glaring. 

"But, good gracious, isn't it your profession?" asked Mr. Linton. 

Miss de Lisle fairly choked with wrath. Wally's voice fell like oilon a stormy sea. 

"If I could make a pie like that I'd _expect_ to be called 'Cook, '"said he. "It's--it's a regular poem of a pie!" Whereat Jim choked inhis turn, and endeavoured, with signal lack of success, to turn hisemotion into a sneeze. 

Miss de Lisle's lowering countenance cleared somewhat. She looked atWally in a manner that was almost kindly. 

"War-time cookery is a makeshift, not an art, " she said. "Before thewar I could have shown you what cooking could be. "

"That pie wasn't a makeshift, " persisted Wally. "It was a dream. Isay, Miss de Lisle, can you make pikelets?"

"Yes, of course, " said the cook-lady. "Do you like them?"

"I'd go into a trap for a pikelet, " said Wally, warming to his task. "Oh, Norah, do ask Miss de Lisle if she'll make some for tea!"

"Oh, do!" pleaded Norah. As a matter of stern fact, Norah preferredbread-and-butter to pikelets, but the human beam in the cook-lady'seye was not to be neglected. "We haven't had any for ages. " She castabout for further encouragement for the beam. "Miss de Lisle, Isuppose you have a very special cookery-book?"

"I make my own recipes, " said the cook-lady with pride. "But for thewar I should have brought out my book. "

"By Jove, you don't say so!" said Jim. "I say, Norah, you'll have toget that when it comes out. "

"Rather!" said Norah. "I wonder would it bother you awfully to showme some day how to make meringues? I never can get them right. "

"We'll see, " said Miss de Lisle graciously. "And would you reallylike pikelets for tea?"

"Please--if it wouldn't be too much trouble. "

"Very well. " Jim held the door open for the cook-lady as she marchedout. Suddenly she paused. 

"You will see the housekeeper, Mr. Linton?"

"Oh, certainly!" said David Linton hastily. The door closed; behindit they could hear a tread, heavy and martial, dying away. 

"A fearsome woman!" said Mr. Linton. "Wally, you deserve a medal!But are we always to lick the ground under the cook's feet in thisfashion?"

"Oh, she'll find her level, " said Jim. "But you'd better tell Mrs. Atkins not to offend her again. Talk to her like a father, Dad--sayshe and Miss de Lisle are here to run the house, not to bother you andNorah. "

"It's excellent in theory, " said his father sadly, "but in practice Ifind my tongue cleaving to the roof of my mouth when these militantfemales tackle me. And if you saw Mrs. Atkins you would realize howdifficult it would be for me to regard her as a daughter. But I'll domy best. "

Mrs. Atkins, admitted by the sympathetic Allenby, proved less fiercethan the cook-lady, although by no stretch of imagination could shehave been called pleasant. 

"I have never worked with a cook as considered herself a lady, " sheremarked. "It makes all very difficult, and no kitchen-maid, and am Iin authority or am I not? And such airs, turning up her nose at beingcalled Cook. Which if she is the cook, why not be called so? Andgoing off to her bedroom with her dinner, no one downstairs being goodenough to eat with her. I must say it isn't what I'm used to, and melived with the first families. _Quite_ the first. " Mrs. Atkinsceased her weary monologue and gazed on the family with consciousvirtue. She was dressed in dull black silk, and looked overwhelminglyrespectable. 

"Oh, well, you must put up with things as they are, " said Mr. Lintonvaguely. "Miss de Lisle expects a few unusual things, but apparentlythere is no doubt that she can do her work. I hope to have more maidsin a few days; if not"--a brilliant idea striking him--"I must sendyou up to London to find us some, Mrs. Atkins. "

"I shall be delighted, sir, " replied the housekeeper primly. "And doI understand that the cook is to have a separate sitting-room?"

"Oh, for goodness' sake, ask Allenby!" ejaculated her employer. "Itwill have to be managed somewhere, or we shall have no cook!"

CHAPTER V

HOW THE COOK-LADY FOUND HER LEVEL

Two days later, the morning mail brought relief--not too soon, forthere was evidence that the battle between the housekeeper and thecook-lady could not be much longer delayed, and Sarah was going aboutwith a face of wooden agony that gave Norah a chilly feeling whenevershe encountered her. Allenby alone retained any cheerfulness; andmuch of that was due to ancient military discipline. Therefore Mrs. Moroney's letter was hailed with acclamation. "Two maids she canrecommend, bless her heart!" said Mr. Linton. "She doesn't labeltheir particular activities, but says they'll be willing to doanything at all. "

"That's the kind I like, " said Norah thankfully. 

"And their names are Bride Kelly and Katty O'Gorman; doesn't thatbring Killard and brown bogs back to you? And--oh, by Jove!"

"What is it?" demanded his family, in unison. 

"This is what it is. 'I don't know would your honour remember ConHegarty, that was shofer to Sir John at Rathcullen, and a decent boywith one leg and he after coming back from the war. He have no jobsince Sir John died, and he bid me tell you he'd be proud to drive acar for you, and to be with ye all. And if he have only one legitself he's as handy as any one with two or more. Sir John had himwith him at Homewood, and he knows the car that's there, and 'tis theway if you had a job for him he could take the two girls over when hewent, and he used to travelling the world. ' That's all, I think, " Mr. Linton ended. 

"What luck!" Jim ejaculated. "We couldn't have a better chauffeur. "

"I wonder we never thought of Con, " said his father. "A nice boy; I'dlike to have him. "

"So would I, " added Norah. "When will you get them, Dad?"

"I'll write at once and send a cheque for their fares, " said herfather. "I'll tell them to send me a telegram when they start. " Herose to leave the room. "What are you going to do this morning, children?"

"We're all turning out the cottage, " Norah answered promptly. "Ihaven't told Sarah; she disapproves of me so painfully if I do anywork, and hurts my feelings by always doing it over again, ifpossible. At the same time, she looks so unhappy about working atall, and sighs so often, that I don't feel equal to telling her thatthe cottage has to be done. So Jim and Wally have nobly volunteeredto help me. "

"Don't knock yourself up, " said her father. "Will you want me?"

"No--unless you like to come as a guest and sit still and do nothing. My two housemaids and I can easily finish off that little job. There's not really a great deal to do, " Norah added; "the place isvery clean. Only one likes to have everything extra nice when TiredPeople come. "

"Well, I'm not coming to sit still and do nothing, " said her fatherfirmly, "so I'll stay at home and write letters. " He watched themfrom the terrace a little later, racing across the lawn, and smiled alittle. It was so unlikely that this long-legged family of his wouldever really grow up. 

The house was very quiet that morning. Mrs. Atkins and Miss de Lislehaving quarrelled over the question of dinner, had retreated, the oneto the housekeeper's room, the other to the kitchen. Sarah went abouther duties sourly. Allenby was Sarah's uncle, and, as such, felt someduty to her, which he considered he had discharged in getting her agood place; beyond that, Sarah frankly bored him, and he saw no reasonto let her regard him as anything else than a butler. "Bad fordiscipline, too!" he reflected. Therefore Allenby was lonely. Heread the _Daily Mail_ in the seclusion of his pantry, and then, strolling through the hall, with a watchful eye alert lest a speck ofdust should have escaped Sarah, he saw his master cross the garden andstrike across the park in the direction of Hawkins' farm. Every oneelse was out, Allenby knew not where. An impulse for fresh air fellupon him, and he sauntered towards the shrubbery. 

Voices and laughter came to him from the cottage. He pushed throughthe shrubs and found himself near a window; and, peeping through, received a severe shock to his well-trained nerves. Norah, envelopedin a huge apron, was energetically polishing the kitchen tins; theboys, in their shirt-sleeves, were equally busy, Wally scrubbing thesink with Monkey soap, and Jim blackleading the stove. It was veryclear that work was no new thing to any of the trio. Allenby gaspedwith horror. 

"Officers, too!" he ejaculated. "What's the world coming to, Iwonder!" He hesitated a moment, and then walked round to the backdoor. 

"May I come in, please, miss?"

"Oh, come in, Allenby, " Norah said, a little confused. "We're busy, you see. Did you want anything?"

"No, miss, thank you. But really, miss--I could 'ave got a woman fromthe village for you, to do all this. Or Sarah. "

"Sarah has quite enough to do, " said Norah. 

"Indeed, Sarah's not killed with work, " said that damsel's uncle. "Idon't like to see you soilin' your 'ands, miss. Nor the gentlemen. "

"The gentlemen are all right, " said Wally cheerfully. "Look at thissink, now, Allenby; did you ever see anything better?"

"It's--it's not right, " murmured Allenby unhappily. He threw off hisblack coat suddenly, and advanced upon Jim. "If you please, sir, I'llfinish that stove. "

"That you won't, " said Jim. "Thanks all the same, Allenby, but I'mgetting used to it now. " He laughed. "Besides, don't you forget thatyou're a butler?"

"I can't forget that you're an officer, sir, " said Allenby, wretchedly. "It's not right: think of the regiment. And Miss Norah. Won't you let me 'elp sir?"

"You can clean the paint, Allenby, " said Norah, taking pity on hisdistressed face. "But there's really no need to keep you. "

"If you'd only not mind telling any of them at the 'ouse what I wasdoing, " said the butler anxiously. "It 'ud undermine me position. There's that Miss de Lisle, now--she looks down on everybody enoughwithout knowin' I was doin' any job like this. "

"She shall never know, " said Jim tragically, waving a blacklead brush. "Now I'm off to do the dining-room grate. If you're deadly anxious towork, Allenby, you could wash this floor--couldn't he, Norah?"

"Thanks very much, sir, " said Allenby gratefully, "I'll leave thisplace all right--just shut the door, sir, and don't you bother aboutit any more. "

"However did you dare, Jim?" breathed Norah, as the cleaning partymoved towards the dining-room. "Do you think a butler ever washed afloor before?"

"Can't say, " said Jim easily. "I'm regarding him more as a sergeantthan a butler, for the moment--not that I can remember seeing asergeant wash a floor, either. But he seemed anxious to help, so whynot let him? It won't hurt him; he's getting disgracefully fat. Andthere's plenty to do. "

"Heaps, " said Wally cheerily. "Where's that floor-polish, Nor? Theseboards want a rub. What are you going to do?"

"Polish brass, " said Norah, beginning on a window-catch. "When I growup I think I'll be an architect, and then I'll make the sort of housethat women will care to live in. "

"What sort's that?" asked Jim. 

"I don't know what the outside will be like. But it won't have anybrass to keep clean, or any skirting-boards with pretty tops to catchdust, or any corners in the rooms. Brownie and I used to talk aboutit. All the cupboards will be built in, so's no dust can get underthem, and the windows will have some patent dodge to open inwards whenthey want cleaning. And there'll be built-in washstands in everyroom, with taps and plugs----"

"Brass taps?" queried Wally. 

"Certainly not. "

"What then?"

"Oh--something. Something that doesn't need to be kept pretty. Andthen there will be heaps of cupboard-room and heaps ofshelf-room--only all the shelves will be narrow, so that nothing canbe put behind anything else. "

"Whatever do you mean?" asked Jim. 

"She means dead mice--you know they get behind bottles of jam, " saidWally kindly. "Go on, Nor, you talk like a book. "

"Well, dead mice are as good as anything, " said Norah lucidly. "Therewon't be any room for their corpses on _my_ shelves. And I'll havesome arrangement for supplying hot water through the house thatdoesn't depend on keeping a huge kitchen fire alight. "

"That's a good notion, " said Jim, sitting back on his heels, blackleadbrush in hand. "I think I'll go architecting with you, Nor. We'll goin for all sorts of electric dodges; plugs in all the rooms to fix tovacuum cleaners you can work with one hand--most of 'em want two menand a boy; and electric washing-machines, and cookers, and fans andall kinds of things. And everybody will be using them, so electricitywill have to be cheap. "

"I really couldn't help listening to you, " said a deep voice in thedoorway. 

Every one jumped. It was Miss de Lisle, in her skimpy redoverall--rather more flushed than usual, and a little embarrassed. 

"I hope you don't mind, " she said. "I heard voices--and I didn'tthink any one lived here. I knocked, but you were all so busy youdidn't hear me. "

"So busy talking, you mean, " laughed Wally. "Terrible chatterboxes, Jim and Norah; they never get any work done. " A blacklead brushhurtled across the room: he caught it neatly and returned it to theowner. 

"But you're working terribly hard, " said the cook-lady, inbewilderment. "Is any one going to live here?"

Norah explained briefly. Miss de Lisle listened with interest, nodding her head from time to time. 

"It's a beautiful idea, " she said at length. "Fancy now, you rescuingthose poor little children and their father and mother! It makes mefeel quite sentimental. Most cooks are sentimental, you know: it'ssuch a--a warm occupation, " she added vaguely. "When I'm cookingsomething that requires particular care I always find myself crooninga love song!" At which Wally collapsed into such a hopeless gigglethat Jim and Norah, in little better case themselves, looked at him inhorror, expecting to see him annihilated. To their relief, Miss deLisle grinned cheerfully. 

"Oh, yes, you may laugh!" she said--whereupon they all did. "I know Idon't look sentimental. Perhaps it's just as well; nobody would wanta cook with golden hair and languishing blue eyes. And I do cook somuch better than I sing! Now I'm going to help. What can I do?"

"Indeed, you're not, " said Norah. "Thanks ever so, Miss de Lisle, butwe can manage quite well. "

"Now, you're thinking of what I said the other day, " said Miss deLisle disgustedly. "I know I did say my province was cooking, andnothing else. But if you knew the places I've struck. Dear me, therewas one place where the footman chucked me under the chin!"

It was too much for the others. They sat down on the floor andshrieked in unison. 

"Yes, I know it's funny, " said Miss de Lisle. "I howled myself, afterit was all over. But I don't think the footman ever chucked any oneunder the chin again. I settled him!" There was a reminiscent gleamin her eye: Norah felt a flash of sympathy for the hapless footman. 

"Then there was another house--that was a duke's--where the butlerexpected me to walk out with him. That's the worst of it: if youbehave like a human being you get that sort of thing, and if you don'tyou're a pig, and treated accordingly. " She looked at themwhimsically. "Please don't think me a pig!" she said. "I--I shallnever forget how you held the door open for me, Mr. Jim!"

"Oh, I say, don't!" protested the unhappy Jim, turning scarlet. 

"Now you're afraid I'm going to be sentimental, but I'm not. I'mgoing to polish the boards in the passage, and then you can give meanother job. Lunch is cold to-day: I've done all the cooking. Now, please don't--" as Norah began to protest. "Dear me, if you only knewhow nice it is to speak to some one again!" She swooped upon Wally'stin of floor-polish, scooped half of its contents into the lid with ahair-pin, commandeered two cloths from a basketful of cleaningmatters, and strode off. From the passage came a steady pounding thatspoke of as much "elbow-grease" as polish being applied. 

"Did you ever!" said Jim weakly. 

"Never, " said Wally. "I say, I think she's a good sort. "

"So do I. But who'd have thought it!"

"Poor old soul!" said Norah. "She must be most horribly dull. Butafter our first day I wouldn't have dared to make a remark to herunless she'd condescended to address me first. "

"I should think you wouldn't, " said Wally. "But she's really quitehuman when she tucks her claws in. "

"Oh, my aunt!" said Jim, chuckling. "I'd give a month's pay to haveseen the footman chuck her under the chin!" They fell intoconvulsions of silent laughter. 

From the passage, as they regained composure, came a broken melody, punctuated by the dull pounding on the floor. Miss de Lisle, on herknees, had become sentimental, and warbled as she rubbed. 

 _"'I do not ask for the heart of thy heart. '"_

"Why wouldn't you?" murmured Wally, with a rapt expression. "Any onewho can make pikelets like you----"

"Be quiet, Wally, " grinned Jim. "She'll hear you. "

"Not she--she's too happy. Listen. "

 _"'All that I a-a-sk for is all that may be, All that thou ca-a-a-rest to give unto me! I do not ask'"----_

Crash! Bang! Splash!

"Heavens, what's happened!" exclaimed Jim. 

They rushed out. At the end of the passage Miss de Lisle and theirreproachable Allenby struggled in a heap--in an ever-widening poolof water that came from an overturned bucket lying a yard away. Thefamily rushed to the rescue. Allenby got to his feet as they arrived, and dragged up the drenched cook-lady. He was pale with apprehension. 

"I--I--do beg your pardon, mum!" he gasped. "I 'adn't an idea in me'ead there was any one there, least of all you on your knees. I justcome backin' out with the bucket!"

"I say, Miss de Lisle, are you hurt?" Jim asked anxiously. 

"Not a bit, which is queer, considering Allenby's weight!" returnedMiss de Lisle. "But it's--it's just t-too funny, isn't it!" Shebroke into a shout of laughter, and the others, who had, indeed, beenchoking with repressed feeling, followed suit. Allenby, after agallant attempt to preserve the correct demeanour of a butler, unchanged by any circumstance, suddenly bolted into the kitchen like arabbit. They heard strange sounds from the direction of the sink. 

"But, I say, you're drenched!" said Jim, when every one felt a littlebetter. 

Miss de Lisle glanced at her stained and dripping overall. 

"Well, a little. I'll take this off, " she said, suiting the action tothe word, and appearing in a white blouse and grey skirt which suitedher very much better than the roseate garment. "But my floor! And Ihad it so beautifully polished!" she raised her voice. "Allenby!What are you going to do about this floor?"

"Indeed, mum, I've made a pretty mess of it, " said Allenby, reappearing. 

"You have, indeed, " said she. 

"But I never expected to find you 'ere a-polishin', " said thebewildered ex-sergeant. 

"And I certainly never expected to find the butler scrubbing!"retorted Miss de Lisle; at which Allenby's jam dropped, and he cast anappealing glance at Jim. 

"This is a working-bee, " said Jim promptly. "We're all in it, and noone else knows anything about it. "

"Not Mrs. Atkins, I hope, sir, " said Allenby. 

"Certainly not. As for Sarah, she's out of it altogether. "

Allenby sighed, a relieved butler. 

"I'll see to the floor, sir, " he said. "It's up to me, isn't it? Andpolish it after. I can easy slip down 'ere for a couple of hoursafter lunch, when you're all out ridin'. "

"Then I really had better fly, " said Miss de Lisle. "I am pretty wet, and there's lunch to think about. " She looked at them in friendlyfashion. "Thank you all very much, " she said--and was gone, with akind of elephantine swiftness. 

The family returned to the dining-room, leaving Allenby to grapplewith the swamp in the passage. 

"Don't we have cheery adventures when we clean house!" said Wallyhappily. "I wouldn't have missed this morning for anything. "

"No--it _has_ been merry and bright, " Jim agreed. "And isn't thecook-lady a surprise-packet! I say, Nor, do you think you'd find ahuman side to Mrs. Atkins if we let Allenby fall over her with abucket of water?"

"'Fraid not, " said Norah. 

"You can't find what doesn't exist, " said Wally wisely. "Mrs. Atkinsis only a walking cruet--sort of mixture of salt and vinegar. "

They told the story to Mr. Linton over the luncheon-table, afterAllenby had withdrawn. Nevertheless, the butler, listening from hispantry to the shouts of laughter from the morning-room, had a fairlygood idea of the subject under discussion, and became rather pink. 

"It's lovely in another way, " Norah finished. "For you see, I thoughtMiss de Lisle wasn't human, but I was all wrong. She's rather a dearwhen you come to know her. "

"Yes, " said her father thoughtfully. "But you'll have to be careful, Norah; you mustn't make any distinctions between her and Mrs. Atkins. It doesn't matter if Miss de Lisle's pedigree is full of dukes andbishops--Mrs. Atkins is the upper servant, and she'll resent it if youput Miss de Lisle on a different footing to herself. "

"Yes, I see, " said Norah, nodding. "I'll do my best, Dad. "

Miss de Lisle, however, played the game. She did not encounter Norahoften, and when she did it was in Mrs. Atkins' presence: and on theseoccasions she maintained an attitude of impersonal politeness whichmade it hard to realize that she and the butler had indeed bathedtogether on the floor of the cottage. She found various matters inher little sitting-room: an easy-chair, a flowering pot-plant, a pileof books that bore Norah's name--or Jim's; but she made no sign ofhaving received them except that Norah found on her table at night atwisted note in a masculine hand that said "Thank you. --C. De L. " Asfor Mrs. Atkins, she made her silent way about the house, sour andwatchful, her green eyes rather resembling those of a cat, and herstep as stealthy. Norah tried hard to talk to her on other mattersthan housekeeping, but found her so stolidly unresponsive that at lastshe gave up the attempt. Life, as she said to Wally, was too short towoo a cruet-stand!

The week flew by swiftly, every moment busy with work and plans forthe Tired People to come. Mrs. Atkins, it was plain, did not like thescheme. She mentioned that it would make a great deal of work, andhow did Norah expect servants in these days to put up with unexpectedpeople coming at all sorts of hours?

"But, " said Norah, "that's what the house is _for_. My father and Iwould not want a houseful of servants if we didn't mean to have ahouseful of people. What would we do with you all?" At which Mrs. Atkins sniffed, and replied haughtily that she had been in a placewhere there was only one lady, and _she_ kept eleven servants. 

"More shame for her, " said Norah. "Anyhow, we explained it all to youwhen we engaged you, Mrs. Atkins. If we weren't going to have peoplehere we should still be living in London, in a flat. And if theservants won't do their work, we shall just have to get others whowill. " Which was a terrible effort of firmness for poor Norah, whoinwardly hoped that Mrs. Atkins did not realize that she was shakingin her shoes!

"Easier said than done, in war-time, " said the housekeeper morosely. "Servants don't grow on gooseberry-bushes now, and what they don'texpect----! Well, _I_ don't know what the world's coming to. " ButNorah, feeling unequal to more, fled, and, being discovered by Wallyand Jim with her head in her hands over an account-book, was promptlytaken out on Killaloe--the boys riding the cobs, which theyuntruthfully persisted that they preferred. 

Then came Tuesday morning: with early breakfast, and the boys oncemore in khaki, and Jones, in the carriage, keeping the browns movingin the chill air. Not such a hard parting as others they had knownsince for the present there was no anxiety: but from the days when Jimused to leave Billabong for his Melbourne boarding-school, good-byemorning had been a difficult one for the Lintons. They joked throughit in their usual way: it was part of the family creed to keep theflag flying. 

"Well, you may have us back at any time as your first Tired People, "said Wally, his keen face looking as though it never could grow weary. "Machine-gun courses must be very fatiguing, don't you think, Jim?"

"Poor dears!" said Norah feelingly. "We'll have a special beef-teadiet for you, and bath-chairs. Will they send you in an ambulance?"

"Very likely, and then you'll be sorry you were so disrespectful, won't she, Mr. Linton?"

"I'm afraid you can't count on it, " said that gentleman, laughing. "Norah's bump of respect isn't highly developed, even for me. You'llwrite soon, Jim, and tell us how you get on--and what your nextmovements are. "

"Rather, " answered Jim. "Don't let the lady of the house wear off allher curls over the accounts, will you, Dad? I'd hate to see herbald!"

"I'll keep an eye on her, " said his father. "Now, boys; it's time youwere off. "

They shook hands with Allenby, to his secret gratification. He closedthe carriage door upon them, and stood back at attention, as theydrove off. From an upper window--unseen, unfortunately--a figure in ared overall leaned, waving a handkerchief. 

The train was late, and they all stamped about the platform--it was afrosty morning. 

"Buck up, old kiddie, " said Jim. "We'll be home in no time. And lookafter Dad. "

"Yes--rather!" said Norah. "Send me all your socks when they wantdarning--which is every week. "

"Right. " They looked at each other with the blank feeling of havingnothing to say that comes on station platforms or on the decks ofships before the final bell rings. Then the train came in sight, theelderly porter, expectant of a tip, bustled mightily with suit-casesand kit-bags, and presently they were gone. The two brown faces hungout of the carriage-window until the train disappeared round a curve. 

Norah and her father looked at each other. 

"Well, my girl, " said he. "Now I suppose we had better begin ourjob. "

They went out to the carriage. Just as they were getting in, theancient porter hurried after them. 

"There's some people come by that train for you, sir. "

The Lintons turned. A thin man, with sad Irish eyes, was limping outof the station. Behind him came two girls. 

"Why, it's Con!" Norah cried. 

"It is, miss, " said the chauffeur. "And the gerrls I have withme--Bridie and Katty. "

"But you didn't write, " Mr. Linton said. 

"Well, indeed, I was that rushed, an' we gettin' off, " said Con. "ButI give Patsy Burke the money and towld him to send the wire. But 'tisthe way with Patsy he'll likely think it'll do in a day or two as wellas any time. " And as a matter of fact, the telegram duly arrivedthree days later--by which time the new arrivals had shaken down, andthere seemed some prospect of domestic peace in the Home for TiredPeople. 

CHAPTER VI

KIDNAPPING

Mrs. Hunt came slowly down the steps of a Park Lane mansion, now usedas an officers' hospital. She was tired and dispirited; her stepsdragged as she made her way towards Piccadilly. Beneath her veil herpretty face showed white, with lines of anxiety deepening it. 

An officer, hurrying by, stopped and came eagerly to speak to her. 

"How are you, Mrs. Hunt? And how's the Major?"

"Not very well, " said Mrs. Hunt, answering the second part of thequestion. "The operation was more successful than any he has had yet, but there has been a good deal of pain, and he doesn't seem to pick upstrength. The doctors say that his hand now depends a good deal uponhis general health: he ought to live in the country, forget thatthere's a war on, and get thoroughly fit. " She sighed. "It's so easyfor doctors to prescribe these little things. "

"Yes--they all do it, " said the other--a captain in Major Hunt'sregiment. "May I go to see him, do you think?"

"Oh, do, " Mrs. Hunt answered. "It will cheer him up; and anythingthat will do that is good. He's terribly depressed, poor old boy. "She said good-bye, and went on wearily. 

It was a warm afternoon for October. Norah Linton and her father hadcome up to London by an early train, and, after much shopping, hadlunched at a little French restaurant in Soho, where they ate queerdishes and talked exceedingly bad French to the pretty waitress. Itwas four o'clock when they found themselves at the door of a dingybuilding in Bloomsbury. 

"Floor 3, the Hunts' flat, Daddy, " said Norah, consulting a note-book. "I suppose there is a lift. "

There was a lift, but it was out of order; a grimy card, tucked intothe lattice of the doorway, proclaimed the fact. So they mountedflight after flight of stairs, and finally halted before a doorwaybearing Major Hunt's card. A slatternly maid answered their ring. 

"Mrs. Hunt's out, " she said curtly. "Gorn to see the Mijor. "

"Oh--will she be long?"

"Don't think so--she's gen'lly home about half-past four. Will yerwait?"

Norah looked at her father. 

"Oh yes, we'll wait, " he said. They followed the girl into a narrowpassage, close and airless, and smelling of Irish stew. Sounds ofwarfare came from behind a closed door: a child began to cry loudly, and a boy's voice was heard, angry and tired. 

The maid ushered the visitors into a dingy little drawing-room. Norahstopped her as she was departing. 

"Could I see the children?"

The girl hesitated. 

"They're a bit untidy, " she said sullenly. "I ain't had no time toclean 'em up. There ain't no one to take them for a walk to-day. "

"Oh, never mind how untidy they are, " said Norah hastily. "Do sendthem in. "

"Oh, all right, " said the girl. "You'll tell the missus it was youarsked for 'em, won't yer?"

"Yes, of course. "

She went out, and the Lintons looked at each other, and then at thehopeless little room. The furniture was black horsehair, very shinyand hard and slippery; there was a gimcrack bamboo overmantel, withmuch speckled glass, and the pictures were of the kind peculiar toLondon lodging-houses, apt to promote indigestion in the beholder. There was one little window, looking out upon a blank courtyard and adirty little side-street, where children played and foughtincessantly, and stray curs nosed the rubbish in the gutters in thehope of finding food. There was nothing green to be seen, nothingclean, nothing pleasant. 

"Oh, poor kiddies!" said Norah, under her breath. 

The door opened and they came in; not shyly--the London child isseldom shy--but frankly curious, and in the case of the elder two, with suspicion. Three white-faced mites, as children well may be whohave spent a London summer in a Bloomsbury square, where the verypavements sweat tar, and the breathless, sticky heat is as cruel bynight as by day. A boy of six, straight and well-grown, with darkhair and eyes, who held by the hand a small toddling person with damprings of golden hair: behind them a slender little girl, a little tooshadowy for a mother's heart to be easy; with big brown eyes peepingelfishly from a cloud of brown curls. 

The boy spoke sullenly. 

"Eva told us to come in, " he said. 

"We wanted you to take care of us, " said Norah. "You see, your motherisn't here. "

"But we can't have tea, " said the boy. "Eva says she isn't cleaned upyet, and besides, there's no milk, and very likely Mother'll forgetthe cakes, she said. "

"But we don't want tea, " said Norah. "We had a big lunch, not so longago. And besides, we've got something nicer than tea. It's in hispocket. " She nodded at her father, who suddenly smiled in the waythat made every child love him, and, fishing in his pocket drew out asquare white box--at sight of which the baby said delightedly, "Choc!"and a kind of incredulous wonder, rather pitiful to see, came into theeyes of Geoffrey and his sister. 

"There's a very difficult red ribbon on this, " said Mr. Linton, fumbling with it. "I can't undo it. " He smiled at little Alison. "You show me how. "

She was across the room in a flash, the baby at her heels, whileGeoffrey made a slow step or two, and then stopped again. 

"But you don't undone it 'tall, " she said. "It sticks on top. Youbreaks this paper"--pointing to the seal--"and then it undoneshimself. "

"You're quite right, " said Mr. Linton, as the lid came off. "So itdoes. How did you know?"

"We did have lots of boxes when we lived with the wegiment, " said thesmall girl; "but now the wegiment's in Fwance, and Daddy doesn't haveenough pennies for chocs. " Her busy fingers tossed aside tissue paperand silver wrapping, until the brown rows of sweets were revealed. Then she put her hands by her sides. 

"Is we to have some?"

"Oh, you poor little soul!" said David Linton hurriedly, and caughther up on his knee. He held the box in front of her. 

"Now, which sort do you think is best for weeshy boys like that?" heasked, indicating the baby, who was making silent dives in thedirection of the box. "And which do you like?--and Geoffrey?"

"Michael likes these. " She fished one out carefully, and Michael fellupon it, sitting on the carpet that he might devour it at his ease. "And Geoff and me--oh, we likes any 'tall. "

"Then you shall have any at all. " He held out his free hand. "Comeon, Geoff. " And the boy, who had hesitated, digging one foot into thecarpet, suddenly capitulated and came. 

"Are you an officer?" he asked presently. 

"No, I'm too old, " said David Linton. "But I have a big son who isone--and another boy too. "

"What's their regiment?"

"The same as your father's. "

"Truly?" A sparkle came into the boy's eyes. "I'm going to be in itsome day. "

"Of course you will--and Michael too, I suppose. And then you'llfight the Germans--that is, if there are any left. "

"Daddy says there won't be. But I keep hoping there'll be just a fewfor me and Michael. '

"Alison wants some too, " said that lady. "Wants to kill vem wiv mywevolver. "

"A nice young fire-eater, you are, " said Mr. Linton, laughing. 

"Girls can't kill Germans, silly, " said Geoffrey scornfully. "Theyhave to stop at home and make bandages. " To which his sister repliedcalmly, "Shan't: I'm going to kill forty 'leven, " with an air offinality which seemed to end the discussion. Norah checked anyfurther warlike reflections by finding a new layer of sweets asattractive as those on top, and the three heads clustered over the boxin a pleasant anxiety of selection. 

The carriages on the Tube railway had been very stuffy that afternoon. Mrs. Hunt emerged thankfully from the crowded lift which shot up thepassengers from underground. She came with slow step into the dustystreet. The flat was not far away: that was one comfort. But shesighed impatiently as she entered the building, to be confronted withthe "Not Working" legend on the lift. 

"Little wretch!" she said, alluding to the absent lift-boy. "I'm surehe's only playing pitch-and-toss round the corner. " She toiled up thethree long flights of stairs--her dainty soul revolting at theirunswept dinginess. Stella Hunt had been brought up in a big house ona wind-swept Cumberland fell, and there was no day in crowdedBloomsbury when she did not long for the clean open spaces of hergirlhood. 

She let herself into the flat with her latch-key. Voices came to herfrom the sitting-room, with a gurgle of laughter from little Michael. She frowned. 

"Eva should not have let the children in there, " she thoughtanxiously. "They may do some damage. " She opened the door hurriedly. 

No one noticed her for a moment, David Linton, with Alison on one kneeand Geoffrey on the other, was deep in a story of kangaroo-hunting. On the floor sat Norah, with Michael tucked into her lap, his faceblissful as she told on his fat fingers the tale of the little pigswho went to market. The box of chocolates was on the table, itsscarlet ribbon making a bright spot of colour in the drab room. Themother looked for a minute in silence, something of the wearinessdying out of her eyes. 

Then Geoffrey looked up and saw her--a slight figure, holding a paperbag. 

"Hallo!" he said. "I'm glad you didn't forget the cakes, 'cause we'vegot people to tea!"

Mr. Linton placed his burden on the hearthrug, and got up. 

"How are you, Mrs. Hunt? I hope you don't mind our taking possessionlike this. We wanted to get acquainted. "

"I could wish they were cleaner, " said Mrs. Hunt, laughing, as sheshook hands. "I've seldom seen three grubbier people. Geoff, dear, couldn't Eva have washed your face?"

"She said she hadn't time, " said Geoffrey easily. "We tried to washMichael, but he only got more streaky. "

"Oh, please don't mind, Mrs. Hunt, " Norah pleaded. "They've been suchdarlings!"

"I'm afraid I don't mind at all, " said Mrs. Hunt, sitting downthankfully. "I've been picturing my poor babies tired to death of notbeing out--and then to come home and find them in the seventhheaven----" She broke off, her lip quivering a little. 

"You're just as tired as you can be, " said Norah. "Now you're goingto rest, and Geoff will show me how to get tea. "

"Oh, I couldn't let you into that awful little kitchen, " said Mrs. Hunt hastily. "And besides--I'm awfully sorry--I don't believe themilkman has been yet. "

"I could go to the milk-shop round the corner with a jug, " saidGeoffrey anxiously. "Do let's, Mother. "

"Is there one?" Norah asked. "Now, Mrs. Hunt, do rest--make her puther feet up on the sofa, Dad. And Geoff and I will go for milk, andI'll ask Eva to make tea. Can she?"

"Oh, of course she _can_" said Mrs. Hunt, ceasing to argue the point. "But she's never fit to be seen. "

"That doesn't matter, " said David Linton masterfully. "We've seen heronce, and survived the shock. Just put your feet up, and tell me allabout your husband--Norah will see to things. "

Eva, however, was found to have risen to the situation. She had usedsoap and water with surprising effect, and now bloomed in a fresh capand an apron that had plainly done duty a good many times, but, beingturned inside out, still presented a decent front to the world. Shescorned help in preparing tea, but graciously permitted Norah to washthe three children and brush their hair, and indicated where cleanoveralls might be found. Then, escorted by all three, Norah salliedforth, jug in hand, and found, not only the milk-shop, but anotherwhere cakes and scones so clamoured to be bought that they allreturned laden with paper bags. Eva had made a huge plate of butteredtoast; so that the meal which presently made its appearance on the bigtable in the drawing-room might well have justified the query as towhether indeed a war were in progress. 

Mrs. Hunt laughed, rather mirthlessly. 

"I suppose I ought to protest--but I'm too tired, " she said. "And itis very nice to be taken care of again. Michael, you should havebread-and-butter first. "

"Vere isn't any, " said Alison with triumph. 

Norah was tucking a feeder under Michael's fat chin. 

"Now he's my boy for a bit--not yours at all, Mrs. Hunt, " she said, laughing. "Forget them all: I'm going to be head nurse. " And Mrs. Hunt lay back thankfully, and submitted to be waited on, while theshouts of laughter from the tea-table smoothed away a few more linesfrom her face, and made even Eva, feasting on unaccustomed cakes inthe kitchen, smile grimly and murmur, "Lor, ain't they 'avin' a time!"

Not until tea was over, and the children busy with picture books thathad come mysteriously from another of his pockets, did David Lintonunfold his plan: and then he did it somewhat nervously. 

"We want to take you all out of this, Mrs. Hunt, " he said. "There's alittle cottage--a jolly little thatched place--close to our house thatis simply clamouring to have you all come and live in it. I think itwill hold you all comfortably. Will you come?"

Mrs. Hunt flushed. 

"Don't talk to poor Bloomsbury people of such heavenly things asthatched cottages, " she said. "We have this horrible abode on a longlease, and I don't see any chance of leaving it. "

"Oh, never mind the lease--we'll sub-let it for you, " said Mr. Linton. He told her briefly of John O'Neill's bequest to Norah. 

"I want you to put it out of your head that you're accepting theslightest favour, " he went on. "We feel that we only hold the placein trust; the cottage is there, empty, and indeed it is you who willbe doing us the favour by coming to live in it. "

"Oh--I couldn't, " she said breathlessly. 

"Just think of it, Mrs. Hunt!" Norah knelt down by the hard littlehorsehair sofa. "There's a big lawn in front, and a summer-housewhere the babies could play, and a big empty attic for them on wetdays, and heaps of fresh milk, and you could keep chickens; and thesitting-room catches all the sun, and when Major Hunt comes out of thehospital it would be so quiet and peaceful. He could lie out underthe trees on fine days on a rush lounge; and there are jolly woods forhim to walk in. " The poor wife caught her breath. "And he'd be suchtremendous company for Dad, and I know you'd help me when I got intodifficulties with my cook-lady. There's a little stream, and a tinylake, and----"

"When is we goin', Muvver?"

The question was Alison's, put with calm certainty. She and Geoffreyhad stolen near, and were listening with eager faces. 

"Oh, my darling, I'm afraid we can't, " said Mrs. Hunt tremulously. 

"But the big girl says we can. When is we going?"

"Oh, Mother!" said Geoffrey, very low. "Away from--_here_!" Hecaught her hand. "Oh, say we're going, Mother--darling!"

"Of course she'll say it, " David Linton said. "The only question is, how soon can you be ready?"

"Douglas is terribly proud, " Mrs. Hunt said. "I am afraid I couldn'tbe proud. But he will never accept a favour. I know it would be nouse to ask him. "

"Then we won't ask him, " said David Linton calmly. "When does heleave the hospital?"

"This day week, if he is well enough. "

"Then we'll have you comfortably installed long before that. We won'ttell him a thing about it: on the day he's to come out I'll go for himin the motor and whisk him down to Homewood before he realizes wherehe's going. Now, be sensible, Mrs. Hunt"--as she tried to speak. "You know what his state is--how anxious you are: you told me allabout it just now. Can you, in justice to him, refuse to come?--canyou face bringing him back here?"

Geoffrey suddenly burst into sobs. 

"Oh, don't Mother!" he choked. "You know how he hates it. And--trees, and grass, and woods, and----" He hid his face on herarm. 

"An' tsickens, " said Alison. "An' ackits to play in. "

"You're in a hopeless minority, you see, Mrs. Hunt, " said Mr. Linton. "You'll have to give in. "

Mrs. Hunt put her arms round the two children who were pressingagainst her in their eagerness: whereupon Michael raised a wrathfulhowl and flung himself bodily upon them, ejaculating: "Wants to behugged, too!" Over the three heads the mother looked up at hervisitors. 

"Yes, I give in, " she said. "I'm not brave enough not to. But Idon't know what Douglas will say. "

"I'll attend to Douglas, " said Mr. Linton cheerfully. "Now, how sooncan you come?" He frowned severely. "There's to be no question ofhouse-cleaning here--I'll put in people to do that. You'll have yourhusband to nurse next week, and I won't have you tiring yourself outbeforehand. So you have only to pack. "

"Look, Mrs. Hunt, " Norah was flushed with another brilliant idea. "Let us take the babies down to-day--I'm sure they will come with me. Then you and Eva will have nothing to do but pack up your things. "

"Oh, I couldn't----" Mrs. Hunt began. 

"Ah yes, you could. " She turned to the children. "Geoff, will youall come with my Daddy and me and get the cottage ready for Mother?"

Geoffrey hesitated. 

"Would you come soon, Mother?"

"I--I believe if I had nothing else to do I could leave the flatto-morrow, " Mrs. Hunt said, submitting. "Would you all be happy, Geoff?--and very good?"

"Yes, if you'd hurry up and come. You'll be a good kid, Alison, won'tyou?"

"'Ess, " said Alison. "Will I see tsickens?"

"Ever so many, " Norah said. "And Michael will be a darling: and we'llall sleep together in one big room, and have pillow-fights!"

"You had certainly better come soon, before your family's mannersbecome ruined, Mrs. Hunt, " said Mr. Linton, laughing. "Then you canreally manage to get away to-morrow? Very well--I'll call for youabout five, if that will do. "

"Yes; that will give me time to see Douglas first. "

"But you won't tell him anything?"

"Oh, no: he would only worry. Of course, Mr. Linton, I shall be ableto get up to see him every day?"

"We're less than an hour by rail, " he told her. "And the trains aregood. Now I think you had better pack up those youngsters, and I'llget a taxi. "

Norah helped to pack the little clothes, trying hard to rememberinstructions as to food and insistence on good manners. 

"Oh, I know you'll spoil them, " said Mrs. Hunt resignedly. "Poormites, they could do with a bit of spoiling: they have had a drearyyear. But I think they will be good: they have been away with mysister sometimes, and she gives them a good character. "

The children said good-bye to their mother gaily enough: the ride inthe motor was sufficient excitement to smooth out any momentary dismayat parting. Only Geoffrey sat up very straight, with his lips tightlypressed together. He leaned from the window--Norah gripping his coatanxiously. 

"You'll be true-certain to come to-morrow, Mother?"

"I promise, " she said. "Good-bye, old son. "

"Mother always keeps her promises, so it's all right, " he said, leaning back with a little smile. Alison had no worries. She sang"Hi, diddle, diddle!" loud and clear, as they rushed through thecrowded streets. When a block in the traffic came, people on 'buseslooked down, smiling involuntarily at the piping voice coming from therecesses of the taxi. As for Michael, he sat on Norah's knee andsucked his thumb in complete content. 

Jones met them at the end of the little journey. His lipsinvoluntarily shaped themselves to a whistle of amazement as the partyfiled out of the station, though to the credit of his training be itrecorded that no sound came. Geoffrey caught his breath with delightat the sight of the brown cobs. 

"Oh-h! Are they yours?"

"Yes--aren't they dears?" responded Norah. 

The boy caught her hand. 

"Oh--could I _possibly_ sit in front and look at them?"

Norah laughed. 

"Could he, Jones? Would you take care of him?"

"'E'd be as safe as in a cradle, Miss Norah, " said Jones delightedly. "Come on up, sir, and I'll show you 'ow to drive. " Mr. Linton swunghim up, smiling at the transfigured little face. Norah had alreadygot her charges into the carriage: a porter stowed away their trunk, and the horses trotted off through the dusk. 

"I didn't ever want to get out, " Geoffrey confided to Norah, as theywent up the steps to the open door of Homewood. "That kind man let mehold the end of the reins. And he says he'll show me more horsesto-morrow. "

"There's a pony too--we'll teach you to ride it, " said Mr. Linton. Whereat Geoffrey gasped with joy and became speechless. 

"Well--have you got them all tucked up?" asked Mr. Linton, when Norahjoined him in the morning-room an hour later. 

"Oh, yes; they were so tired, poor mites. Bride helped me to bathethem, and we fed them all on bread and milk--with lots of cream. Michael demanded "Mummy, " but he was too sleepy to worry much. But;Dad--Geoff wants you badly to say 'good-night. ' He says his own Daddyalways says it to him when he's in bed. Would you mind?"

"Right, " said her father. He went upstairs, with Norah at his heels, and tiptoed into the big room where two of his three small guests werealready sleeping soundly. He looked very tall as he stood beside thelittle bed in the corner. Geoff's bright eyes peeped up at him. 

"It was awful good of you to come, " he said sleepily. "Daddy does. He says, 'Good night, old chap, and God bless you. '"

"Good night, old chap, and God bless you, " said David Linton gravely. He held the small hand a moment in his own, and then, stooping, brushed his forehead with his lips. 

"God bless you, " said Geoff's drowsy voice. "I'm going--going to ridethe pony . . . To-morrow. " His words trailed off in sleep. 

CHAPTER VII

THE THATCHED COTTAGE

But for the narrow white beds, you would hardly have thought that thebig room was a hospital ward. In days before all the world was caughtinto a whirlpool of war it had been a ballroom. A famous painter hadmade the vaulted ceiling an exquisite thing of palest blush-roses andlaughing Cupids, tumbling among vine-leaves and tendrils. The whitewalls bore long panels of the same design. There were no fittings forlight visible: when darkness fell, the touch of a button flooded theroom with a soft glow, coming from some unseen source in the carvedcornice. The shining floor bore heavy Persian rugs, and there weretables heaped with books and magazines; and the nurses who flitted inand out were all dainty and good to look at. All about the room weresplendid palms in pots; from giants twenty feet high, to lesser onesthe graceful leaves of which could just catch the eye of a tired manin bed--fresh from the grim ugliness of the trenches. It was thepalms you saw as you came in--not the beds here and there among them. 

A good many of the patients were up this afternoon, for this was award for semi-convalescents. Not all were fully dressed: they movedabout in dressing-gowns, or lay on the sofas, or played games at thelittle tables. One man was in uniform: Major Hunt, who sat in a bigchair near his bed, and from time to time cast impatient glances atthe door. 

"Wish we weren't going to lose you, Major, " said a tall man in apurple dressing-gown, who came up the ward with wonderful swiftness, considering that he was on crutches. "But I expect you're keen togo. "

"Oh, yes; though I'll miss this place. " Major Hunt cast anappreciative glance down the beautiful room. "It has been great luckto be here; there are not many hospitals like this in England. But--well, even if home is only a beastly little flat in Bloomsbury it_is_ home, and I shall be glad to get back to my wife and theyoungsters. I miss the kids horribly. "

"Yes, one does, " said the other. 

"I daresay I'll find them something of a crowd on wet days, when theycan't get out, " said Major Hunt, laughing. "The flat is small, and mywretched nerves are all on edge. But I want them badly, for all that. And it's rough on my wife to be so much alone. She has led a kind ofwandering life since war broke out--sometimes we've been able to havethe kids with us, but not always. " He stretched himself wearily. "Gad! how glad I'll be when the Boche is hammered and we're able tohave a decent home again!"

"We're all like that, " said the other man. "I've seen my youngsterstwice in the last year. "

"Yes, you're worse off than I am, " said Major Hunt. He lookedimpatiently towards the door, fidgeting. "I wish Stella would come. "

But when a nurse brought him a summons presently, and he said good-byeto the ward and went eagerly down to the ground-floor (in an electriclift worked by an earl's daughter in a very neat uniform), it was nothis wife who awaited him in a little white-and-gold sitting-room, buta very tall man, looking slightly apologetic. 

"Your wife is perfectly well, " said David Linton, checking the quickinquiry that rose to the soldier's lips. "But I persuaded her to giveme the job of calling for you to-day: our car is rather morecomfortable than a taxi, and the doctor thought it would be a goodthing for you to have a little run first. "

Major Hunt tried not to look disappointed, and failed signally. 

"It's awfully good of you, " he said courteously. "But I don't believeI'm up to much yet--and I'm rather keen on getting home. If youwouldn't mind going there direct. "

David Linton cast an appealing look at the nurse, who had accompaniedher patient. She rose to the occasion promptly. 

"Now, Major Hunt, " she protested. "Doctor's orders! You promised totake all the exercise you could, and a run in the car would be thevery thing for you. "

"Oh, very well. " Major Hunt's voice was resigned. David Lintonleaned towards him. 

"I'll make it as short as I can, " he said confidentially. They saidgood-bye, and emerged into Park Lane, where the big blue motor waited. 

"Afraid you must think me horribly rude, " said the soldier, as theystarted. "Fact is, I'm very anxious to see my youngsters: I don'tknow why, but Stella wouldn't bring them to the hospital to see methis last week. But it's certainly jolly to be out again. " He leanedback, enjoying the comfort of the swift car. "I suppose--" hehesitated--"it would be altogether too much trouble to go round by theflat and pick up my wife and Geoff. They would love a run. "

"Oh! Ah! The flat--yes, the flat!" said David Linton, a littlewildly. "I'm afraid--that is, we should be too early. Mrs. Huntwould not expect us so soon, and she--er--she meant to be out, withall the children. Shopping. Fatted calf for the prodigal's return, don't you know. Awfully sorry. "

"Oh, it's quite all right, " said Major Hunt, looking rather amazed. "Only she doesn't generally take them all out. But of course itdoesn't matter. "

"I'll tell you what, " said his host, regaining his composure. "We'lltake all of you out to-morrow--Mrs. Hunt and the three youngsters aswell as yourself. The car will hold all. "

Major Hunt thanked him, rather wearily. They sped on, leaving theoutskirts of London behind them. Up and down long, suburban roads, beyond the trail of motor-'buses, until the open country gleamedbefore them. The soldier took a long breath of the sweet air. 

"Gad, it's good to see fields again!" he said. Presently he glancedat the watch on his wrist. 

"Nearly time to turn, don't you think?" he said. "I don't want Stellato be waiting long. "

"Very soon, " said Mr. Linton. "Just a little more country air. Thechauffeur has his orders: I won't keep you much longer. "

He racked his brains anxiously for a moment, and then plunged into astory of Australia--a story in which bushrangers, blacks and bushfiresmingled so amazingly that it was impossible not to listen to it. Having once secured his hapless guest's attention, he managed to leavethe agony of invention and to slide gracefully to cattle-mustering, about which it was not necessary to invent anything. Major Huntbecame interested, and asked a few questions; and they were deep in acomparison of the ways of handling cattle on an Australian run and aTexan ranch, when the car suddenly turned in at a pair of big irongates and whirled up a drive fringed with trees. Major Hunt broke offin the middle of a sentence. 

"Hallo! Where are we going?"

"I have to stop at a house here for an instant, " said Mr. Linton. "Just a moment; I won't keep you. "

Major Hunt frowned. He was tired; the car was wonderfullycomfortable, but the rush through the keen air was wearying to asemi-invalid, and he was conscious of a feeling of suppressedirritation. He wanted to be home. The thought of the hard littlesofa in the London flat suddenly became tempting--he could lie thereand talk to the children, and watch Stella moving about. Now theywere miles into the country--long miles that must be covered againbefore he was back in Bloomsbury. He bit his lips to restrain wordsthat might not seem courteous. 

"I should really be very grateful if----"

He stopped. The car had turned into a side-avenue--he caught aglimpse of a big, many-gabled house away to the right. Then theyturned a corner, and the car came to a standstill with her bonnetalmost poking into a great clump of rhododendrons. There was athatched cottage beside them. And round the corner tore a small boyin a sailor suit, with his face alight with a very ecstasy of welcome. 

"Daddy! Oh, Daddy!"

"Geoff!" said Major Hunt amazedly. "But how?--I don't understand. "

There were other people coming round the corner: his wife, tall andslender, with her eyes shining; behind her, Norah Linton, with Alisontrotting beside her, and Michael perched on one shoulder. At sight ofhis father Michael drummed with his heels to Norah's great discomfort, and uttered shrill squeaks of joy. 

"Come on, " said Geoffrey breathlessly, tugging at the door. "Come on!they're all here. "

"Come on, Hunt, " said David Linton, jumping out. "Let me helpyou--mind your hand. "

"I suppose I'll wake up in a moment, " said Major Hunt, getting outslowly. "At present, it's a nice dream. I don't understand anything. How are you, Miss Linton?"

"You don't need to wake up, " said his wife, in a voice that shook alittle. Her brave eyes were misty. "Only, you're home. "

"It's the loveliest home, Daddy!" Geoff's hand was in his father's, pulling him on. 

"There's tsickens!" said Alison in a high pipe. "An' a ackit wivtoys. "

"She means an attic, " said Geoffrey scornfully. "Come on, Daddy. We've got such heaps to show you. "

Somehow they found themselves indoors. Norah and her father haddisappeared; they were all together, father, mother, and babies, in abig room flooded with sunlight: a room covered with a thick redmatting with heavy rugs on it; a room with big easy-chairs andgate-legged tables, and a wide couch heaped with bright cushions, drawn close to an open casement. There was a fire of logs, cracklingcheerily in the wide fireplace: there were their ownbelongings--photographs, books, his own pipe-rack and tobacco-jar:there were flowers everywhere, smiling a greeting. Tea-cups andsilver sparkled on a white-cloth; a copper kettle bubbled over aspirit-lamp. And there were his own people clinging round him, welcoming, holding him wherever little hands could grasp: the babiesfresh, clean, even rosy; his wife's face, no longer tired. And therewas no Bloomsbury anywhere. 

Major Hunt sat down on the sofa, disentangled Michael from his leg, and lifted him with his good arm. 

"It isn't a dream, really, I suppose, Stella?" he said. "I won't wakeup presently? I don't want to. "

"No; it's just a blessed reality, " she told him, smiling. "Hang upDaddy's cap, Geoff: steady, Alison, darling--mind his hand. Don'tworry about anything, Douglas--only--you're home. "

"I don't even want to ask questions, " said her husband, in the samedazed voice. "I find one has no curiosity, when one suddenly gets toheaven. We won't be going away from heaven, though, will we?"

"No--we're permanent residents, " she told him, laughing. "Now getquite comfy; we'll all have tea together. "

"Tea's is lovely here, " confided Alison to him. "They's cweam--an'cakes, _evewy_ day. An' the tsickens make weal eggs, in nesses!"

"And I can ride. A pony, Daddy!" Geoffrey's voice was quivering withpride. He stood by the couch, an erect little figure. 

"Why, he's grown--ever so much!" said Major Hunt. "They've all grown;you too, my little fat Michael. I left white-faced babies in thatbeastly flat. And you too----" She bent over him. "Your dear eyeshave forgotten the old War!" he said, very low. 

There was a heavy knock at the door. Entered Eva, resplendent in abutterfly cap and an apron so stiffly starched that it stood awayresentfully from her figure. By no stretch of imagination could Evaever have been called shy; but she had a certain amount of awe for hermaster, and found speech in his presence a little difficult. But onthis occasion it was evident that she felt that something was demandedof her. She put her burden of buttered toast on a trivet in thefender, and said breathlessly:

"'Ope I see yer well, sir. And _ain't_ this a nice s'prise!"

"Thank you, Eva--yes, " said Major Hunt. 

Whereat, the handmaiden withdrew, her heavy tread retreating to thekitchen to the accompaniment of song. 

"Ow--Ow--_Ow_, it's a lovely War!"

"I didn't know her for a moment, " Major Hunt said, laughing. "Yousee, she never had less than six smuts on her face in Bloomsbury. She's transformed, like all of you in this wonderful dream. "

"Tea isn't a dream, " said his wife. She made it in the silvertea-pot, and they all fluttered about him, persuading him to eat: andmade his tea a matter of some difficulty, since all three childreninsisted on getting as close to him as possible, and he had but onegood hand. He did not mind. Once, as his wife brought him a refilledcup, she saw him lean his face down until it rested for a moment onthe gold rings of Michael's hair. 

It was with some anxiety that Norah and her father went to call ontheir guest next morning. 

"What will we do if he's stiff-necked and proud, Dad?" Norah asked. "I simply couldn't part with those babies now!"

"Let's hope he won't be, " said her father. "But if the worst comes toworst, we could let him pay us a little rent for the place--we couldgive the money to the Red Cross, of course. "

"'M!" said Norah, wrinkling her nose expressively. "That would behorrid--it would spoil all the idea of the place. "

But they found Major Hunt surprisingly meek. 

"I daresay that if you had propounded the idea to me at first I shouldhave said 'No' flatly, " he admitted. "But I haven't the heart todisturb them all now--and, frankly, I'm too thankful. If you'll letme pay you rent----"

"Certainly not!" said Mr. Linton, looking astonished and indignant. "We don't run our place on those lines. Just put it out of your headthat we have anything to do with it. You're taking nothing fromus--only from a man who died very cheerfully because he was able to dofive minutes' work towards helping the War. He's helping it still ifhis money makes it easier for fellows like you; and I believe, wherever he is, he knows and is glad. "

"But there are others who may need it more, " said Hunt weakly. 

"If there are, I haven't met them yet, " Mr. Linton responded. Heglanced out of the window. "Look there now, Hunt!"

Norah had slipped away, leaving the men to talk. Now she came ridingup the broad gravel path across the lawn, on the black pony: leadingthe fat Welsh pony, with Geoffrey on his back. The small boy sat verystraight, with his hands well down. His flushed little face soughtanxiously for his father's at the window. 

Major Hunt uttered a delighted exclamation. 

"I didn't know my urchin was so advanced, " he said. "Well done, oldson!" He scanned him keenly. "He doesn't sit too badly, Mr. Linton. "

"He's not likely to do so, with Norah as his teacher. But Norah sayshe doesn't need much teaching, and that he has naturally good hands. She's proud of him. I think, " said Mr. Linton, laughing, "that theyhave visions of hunting together this winter!"

"I must go out and see him, " said the father, catching up his cap. Mr. Linton watched him cross the lawn with quick strides: and turned, to find Mrs. Hunt at his elbow. 

"Well--he doesn't look much like an invalid, Madam!" he said, smiling. 

"He's not like the same man, " she said, with grateful eyes. "He sleptwell, and ate a huge breakfast: even the hand is less painful. Andhe's so cheery. Oh, I'm so thankful to you for kidnapping us!"

"Indeed, it's you that we have to thank, " he told her. "You gave usour first chance of beginning our job. "

CHAPTER VIII

ASSORTED GUESTS

"I beg your pardon--is this Homewood?"

Norah, practising long putts at a hole on the far side of the terrace, turned with a start. The questioner was in uniform, bearing acaptain's three stars. He was a short, strongly-built young man, witha square, determined face. 

"Yes, this is Homewood, " she answered. "Did you--have you come to seemy father?"

"I wrote to him last week, " the officer said--"from France. It's MissLinton, isn't it? I'm in your brother's regiment. My name isGarrett. "

"Oh--I've heard Jim speak of you ever so many times, " she cried. Sheput out her hand, and felt it taken in a close grasp. "But we haven'thad your letter. Dad would have told me if one had come. "

Captain Garrett frowned. 

"What a nuisance!" he ejaculated. "Letters from the front are apt totake their time, but I did think a week would have been long enough. I wrote directly I knew my leave was coming. You see--your brothertold me----" He stopped awkwardly. 

Intelligence suddenly dawned upon Norah. 

"Why, you're a Tired Person!" she exclaimed, beaming. 

"Not at all, I assure you, " replied he, looking a trifle amazed. Norah laughed. 

"I don't mean quite that, " she said--"at least I'll explain presently. But you _have_ come to stay, haven't you?"

"Well--your brother was good enough to----" He paused again. 

"Yes, of course. Jim told you we wanted you to come. This is theHome for Tired People, you see; we want to get as many of you as wecan and make you fit. And you're our very first in the house, whichwill make it horribly dull for you. "

"Indeed, it won't, " said Garrett gallantly. 

"Well, we'll do our best for you. I'm so very sorry you weren't met. Did you leave your luggage at the station?"

"Yes. You're quite sure it's convenient to have me, Miss Linton? Icould easily go back to London. "

"Good gracious, no!" said Norah. "Why, you're a godsend! We weren'tjustifying our name. But you _will_ be dull to-day, because Dad hasgone to London, and there's only me. " Norah's grammar was never herstrong point. "And little Geoff Hunt was coming to lunch with me. Will it bore you very much to have a small boy here?"

"Rather not!" said Garrett. "I like them--got some young brothers ofmy own in Jamaica. "

"Well, that's all right. Now come in, and Allenby will show you yourroom. The car will bring your things up when it goes to meet Dad. "

Norah had often rehearsed in her own mind what she would do when thefirst Tired Person came. The rooms were all ready--"in assortedsizes, " Allenby said. Norah had awful visions of eight or ten guestsarriving together, and in her own mind characterized the business ofallotting them to their rooms as a nasty bit of drafting. But thefirst guest had tactfully come alone, and there was no doubt that hedeserved the blue room--a delightful little corner room looking southand west, with dainty blue hangings and wall-paper, and a big couchthat beckoned temptingly to a tired man. Captain Garrett had hadfourteen months in France without a break. He had spent the previousnight in the leave-train, only pausing in London for a hasty"clean-up. " The lavender-scented blue room was like a glimpse ofHeaven to him. He did not want to leave it--only that downstairs JimLinton's sister awaited him, and it appeared that the said sister wasa very jolly girl, with a smile like her brother's cheerful grin, anda mop of brown curls framing a decidedly attractive face. Bob Garrettdecided that there were better things than even the blue room, and, having thankfully accepted Allenby's offer of a hot tub, presentlyemerged from the house, much improved in appearance. 

This time Norah was not alone. A small boy was with her, who greetedthe newcomer with coolness, and then suddenly fell upon him excitedly, recognizing the badge on his collar. 

"You're in Daddy's regiment!" he exclaimed. 

"Am I?" Garrett smiled at him. "Who is Daddy?"

"He's Major Hunt, " said Geoff; and had the satisfaction of seeing thenew officer become as eager as he could have wished. 

"By Jove! Truly, Miss Linton?--does Major Hunt live here? I'd givesomething to see him. "

"He lives just round the corner of that bush, " said Norah, laughing. She indicated a big rhododendron. "Is he at home, Geoff?"

"No--he's gone to London, " Geoff answered. "But he'll be back fortea. "

"Then we'll go and call on Mrs. Hunt and ask her if we may come totea, " Norah said. They strolled off, Geoff capering about them. 

"I don't know Mrs. Hunt, " Garrett said. "You see I only joined theregiment when war broke out--I had done a good bit of training, sothey gave me a commission among the first. I didn't see such a lot ofthe Major, for he was doing special work in Ireland for awhile; but hewas a regular brick to me. We're all awfully sick about his beingsmashed up. "

"But he's going to get better, " Norah said cheerfully. "He's ever somuch better now. "

They came out in front of the cottage, and discovered Mrs. Huntplaying hide-and-seek with Alison and Michael--with Alison muchworried by Michael's complete inattention to anything in the shape ofa rule. Michael, indeed, declined to be hid, and played on a steadyline of his own, which consisted in toddling after his mother whenevershe was in sight, and catching her with shrill squeaks of joy. It wasperfectly satisfactory to him, but somewhat harassing to a sticklerfor detail. 

Mrs. Hunt greeted Garrett warmly. 

"Douglas has often talked about you--you're from Jamaica, aren't you?"she said. "He will be so delighted that you have come. Yes, ofcourse you must come to tea, Norah. I'd ask you to lunch, only I'mperfectly certain there isn't enough to eat! And Geoff would be sodisgusted at being done out of his lunch with you, which makes methink it's not really your society he wants, but the fearful joy ofAllenby behind his chair. "

"I don't see why you should try to depress me, " Norah laughed. "Well, we'll all go for a ride after lunch, and get back in time for tea, ifyou'll put up with me in a splashed habit--the roads are very muddy. You ride, I suppose, Captain Garrett?"

"Oh, yes, thanks, " Garrett answered. "It's the only fun I've had inFrance since the battalion went back into billets: a benevolent gunnerused to lend me a horse--both of us devoutly hoping that I wouldn't becaught riding it. "

"Was it a nice horse?" Geoffrey demanded. 

"Well, you wouldn't call it perfect, old chap. I think it wassuffering from shell-shock: anyhow, it had nerves. It used to shakeall over when it saw a Staff-officer!" He grinned. "Or perhaps Idid. On duty, that horse was as steady as old Time: but when it wasalone, it jumped out of its skin at anything and everything. However, it was great exercise to ride it!"

"We'll give him Killaloe this afternoon, Geoff, " said Norah. "Comeon, and we'll show him the stables now. "

They bade _au revoir_ to Mrs. Hunt and sauntered towards the stables. On the way appeared a form in a print frock, with flying cap andapron-strings. 

"Did you want me, Katty?" Norah asked. 

"There's a tallygrum after coming, miss, on a bicycle. And the boy'swaiting. "

Norah knitted her brows over the sheet of flimsy paper. 

"There's no answer, Katty, tell the boy. " She turned to Garrett, laughing. "You're not going to be our only guest for long. Dad sayshe's bringing two people down to-night--Colonel and Mrs. West. Isn'tit exciting! I'll have to leave you to Geoff while I go and talk tothe housekeeper. Geoff, show Captain Garrett all the horses--Jones isat the stables. "

"Right!" said Geoffrey, bursting with importance. "Come along, Captain Garrett. I'll let you pat my pony, if you like!"

Mrs. Atkins looked depressed at Norah's information. 

"Dear me! And dinner ordered for three!" she said sourly. "It makesa difference. And of course I really had not reckoned on more thanyou and Mr. Linton. "

"I can telephone for anything you want, " said Norah meekly. 

"The fish will not be sufficient, " said the housekeeper. "And otherthings likewise. I must talk to the cook. It would be so much easierif one knew earlier in the day. And rooms to get ready, of course?"

"The big pink room with the dressing-room, " Norah said. 

"Oh, I suppose the maids can find time. Those Irish maids have noidea of regular ways: I found Bride helping to catch a fowl thismorning when she should have been polishing the floor. Now, I mustthrow them out of routine again. "

Norah suppressed a smile. She had been a spectator of the spiritedchase after the truant hen, ending with the appearance of Mrs. Atkins, full of cold wrath; and she had heard Bride's comment afterwards. "Isit her, with her ould routheen? Yerra, that one wouldn't put a handto a hin, and it eshcapin'!"

"Yes, " said Mrs. Atkins. "Extraordinary ways. Very untrained, I mustsay. "

"But you find that they do their work, don't they?" Norah asked. 

"Oh, after a fashion, " said the housekeeper, with a sniff--unwillingto admit that Bride and Katty got through more work in two hours thanSarah in a morning, were never unwilling, and accepted any and everyjob with the utmost cheerfulness. "Their ways aren't my ways. Verywell, Miss Linton. I'll speak to the cook. "

Feeling somewhat battered, Norah escaped. In the hall she met Katty, who jumped--and then broke into a smile of relief. 

"I thought 'twas the Ould Thing hersilf, " she explained. "She'd atethe face off me if she found me here again--'tis only yesterday shewas explaining to me that a kitchenmaid has no business in the hall, at all. But Bridie was tellin' me ye've the grandest ould head of anIrish elk here, and I thought I'd risk her, to get a sight of it. "

"It's over there, " Norah said, pointing to a mighty pair of horns onthe wall behind the girl. Katty looked at it in silence. 

"It's quare to think of the days when them great things walked theplains of Ireland, " she said at length. "Thank you, miss: it done megood to see it. "

"How are you getting on, Katty?" Norah asked. 

"Yerra, the best in the world, " said Katty cheerfully. "Miss deLisle's that kind to me--I'll be the great cook some day, if I kape onwatchin' her. She's not like the fine English cooks I've heard of, that 'ud no more let you see how they made so much as a pudding thanthey'd fly over the moon. 'Tis Bridie has the bad luck, to behousemaid. "

Norah knew why, and sighed. There were moments when her housekeeperseemed a burden too great to be borne. 

"But Mr. Allenby's very pleasant with her, and she says wance you findout that Sarah isn't made of wood she's not so bad. She found thatout when she let fly a pillow at her, and they bedmaking, " said Katty, with a joyous twinkle. "'Tis herself had great courage to do thatsame, hadn't she, now, miss?"

"She had, indeed, " Norah said, laughing. The spectacle of the stiffSarah, overwhelmed with a sudden pillow, was indeed staggering. 

"And then, haven't we Con to cheer us up if we get lonely?" saidKatty. "And Misther Jones and the groom--they're very friendly. Andthe money we'll have to send home! But you'd be wishful for Ireland, no matter how happy you'd be. "

The telephone bell rang sharply, and Norah ran to answer it. It wasJim. 

"That you, Nor?" said his deep voice. "Good--I'm in a hurry. I say, can you take in a Tired Person to-night?"

Norah gasped. 

"Oh, certainly!" she said, grimly. "Who is it, Jimmy? Not you orWally?"

"No such luck, " said her brother. "It's a chap I met last night; he'sjust out of a convalescent home, and a bit down on his luck. " Hisvoice died away in a complicated jumble of whir and buzz, the bellrang frantically, and Norah, like thousands of other people, murmuredher opinion of the telephone and all its works. 

"Are you there?" she asked. 

"B-z-z-z-z-z!" said the telephone. 

Norah waited a little, anxiously debating whether it would be moreprudent to ring up herself and demand the last speaker, or to keepquiet and trust to Jim to regain his connexion. Finally, she decidedto ring: and was just about to put down the receiver when Jim's voicesaid, "Are you there?" in her ear sharply, and once more collapsedinto a whir. She waited again, in dead silence. At last she rang. Nothing happened, so she rang again. 

"Number, please?" said a bored voice. 

"Some one was speaking to me--you've cut me off, " said Norahfrantically. 

"I've been trying to get you for the last ten minutes. You shouldn'thave rung off, " said the voice coldly. "Wait, please. "

Norah swallowed her feelings and waited. 

"Hallo! Hallo! Hallo!--oh, _is_ that you, Norah?" said Jim, his tonecrisp with feeling. "Isn't this an unspeakable machine! And I'm duein three minutes--I must fly. Sure you can have Hardress? He'll getto you by the 6. 45. Are you all well? Yes, we're all right. Sorry, I'll get told off horribly if I'm late. Good-bye. "

Norah hung up the receiver, and stood pondering. She wished thetelephone had not chosen to behave so abominably; only the day beforeWally had rung her up and had spent quite half an hour in talkingcheerful nonsense, without any hindrance at all. Norah wished sheknew a little more about her new "case"; if he were very weak--ifspecial food were needed. It was very provoking. Also, there wasMrs. Atkins to be faced--not a prospect to be put off, since, liketaking Gregory's Powder, the more you looked at it the worse it got. Norah stiffened her shoulders and marched off to the housekeeper'sroom. 

"Oh, Mrs. Atkins, " she said pleasantly, "there's another officercoming this evening. "

Mrs. Atkins turned, cold surprise in her voice. 

"Indeed, miss. And will that be all, do you think?"

"I really don't know, " said Norah recklessly. "That depends on myfather, you see. "

"Oh. May I ask which room is to be prepared?"

"The one next Captain Garrett's, please. I can do it, if the maidsare too busy. "

Mrs. Atkins froze yet more. 

"I should very much rather you did not, miss, thank you, " she said. 

"Just as you like, " said Norah. "Con can take a message for anythingyou want; he is going to the station. "

"Thank you, miss, I have already telephoned for larger supplies, " saidthe housekeeper. The conversation seemed to have ended, so Norahdeparted. 

"What did she ever come for?" she asked herself desperately. "If shedidn't want to housekeep, why does she go out as a housekeeper?"Turning a corner she met the butler. 

"Oh, Allenby, " she said. "We'll have quite a houseful to-night!" Shetold him of the expected arrivals, half expecting to see his facefall. Allenby, on the contrary, beamed. 

"It'll be almost like waiting in Mess!" he said. "When you're used toofficers, miss, you can't get on very well without them. " He lookedin a fatherly fashion at Norah's anxious face. "All the arrangementsmade, I suppose, miss?"

"Oh, yes, I think they're all right, " said Norah, feeling anything butconfident. "Allenby--I don't know much about managing things; do youthink it's too much for the house?"

"No, miss, it isn't, " Allenby said firmly. "Just you leave it all tome, and don't worry. Nature made some people bad-tempered, and theycan't 'elp it. I'll see that things are all right; and as for dinner, all that worries Miss de Lisle, as a rule, is, that she ain't gotenough cooking to do!"

He bent the same fatherly glance on her that evening as she came intothe hall when the hoot of the motor told that her father and hisconsignment of Tired People were arriving. Norah had managed toforget her troubles during the afternoon. A long ride had beenfollowed by a very cheerful tea at Mrs. Hunt's, from which she andGarrett had returned only in time for Norah to slip into a white frockand race downstairs to meet her guests. She hoped, vaguely, that shelooked less nervous than she felt. 

The hall door opened, letting in a breath of the cold night air. 

"Ah, Norah--this is my daughter, Mrs. West, " she heard her father'svoice; and then she was greeting a stout lady and a grey-hairedofficer. 

"Dear me!" said the lady. "I expected some one grown up. How brave!Fancy you, only--what is it--a flapper! And don't you hate us allvery much? _I_ should, I'm sure!"

Over her shoulder Norah caught a glimpse of her father's face, set ingrim lines. She checked a sudden wild desire to laugh, and murmuredsomething civil. 

"Our hostess, Algernon, " said the stout lady, and Norah shook handswith Colonel West, who was short and stout and pompous, and saidexplosively, "Haw! Delighted! Cold night, what?"--which had theeffect of making his hostess absolutely speechless. Somehow with theassistance of Allenby and Sarah, the newcomers were "drafted" to theirrooms, and Norah and her father sought cover in the morning-room. 

"You look worn, Daddy, " said his daughter, regarding him critically. 

"I feel it, " said David Linton. He sank into an armchair and felthurriedly for his pipe. "Haven't had a chance of a smoke for hours. They're a little trying, I think, Norah. "

"Where did you get them?" Norah asked, perching on the arm of hischair, and dropping a kiss on the top of his head. 

"From the hospital where the boys were. Colonel West has been illthere. Brain-fever, Mrs. West says, but he doesn't look like it. Anyhow, they're hard up, I believe; their home is broken up and theyhave five or six children at school, and a boy in Gallipoli. Theyseemed very glad to come. "

"Well, that's all right, " said Norah practically. "We can't expect tohave every one as nice as the Hunts. But they're not the only ones, Dad: Captain Garrett is here, and Jim is sending some one calledHardress by the 6. 45--unfortunately the telephone didn't allow Jim tomention what he is! I hope he isn't a brigadier. "

"I don't see Jim hob-nobbing to any extent with brigadiers, " said herfather. "I say, this is rather a shock. Four in a day!"

"Yes, business is looking up, " said Norah, laughing. "Captain Garrettis a dear--and he can ride, Dad. I had him out on Killaloe. I'm alittle uneasy about the Hardress person, because he's just out of aconvalescent home, and Jim seemed worried about him. But thetelephone went mad, and Jim was in a hurry, so I didn't get anydetails. "

"Oh, well, we'll look after him. How is the household staff standingthe invasion?"

"Every one's very happy except Mrs. Atkins, and she is plunged in woe. Even Sarah seems interested. I haven't dared to look at Miss deLisle, but Allenby says she is cheerful. "

"Has Mrs. Atkins been unpleasant?"

"Well, " said Norah, and laughed, "you wouldn't call her exactly abright spot in the house. But she has seen to things, so that is allthat counts. "

"I won't have that woman worry you, " said Mr. Linton firmly. 

"I won't have _you_ worried about anything, " said Norah. "Don't thinkabout Mrs. Atkins, or you won't enjoy your tea. And here's Allenby. "

"Tea!" said Mr. Linton, as the butler entered, bearing a little tray. "I thought I was too late for such a luxury--but I must say I'm gladof it. "

"I sent some upstairs, sir, " said Allenby, placing a little table nearhis master. "Just a little toast, sir, it being so late. And if youplease, miss, Miss de Lisle would be glad if you could spare a momentin the kitchen. "

The cook-lady, redder than ever, was mixing a mysterious compound in abowl. Katty, hugely important, darted hither and thither. A varietyof savoury smells filled the air. 

"I just wanted to tell you, " said Miss de Lisle confidentially, "thatI'm making a special _souffle_ of my own, and Allenby will put it infront of you. Promise me"--she leaned forward earnestly--"to use athin spoon to help it, and slide it in edgeways as gently as--as ifyou were stroking a baby! It's just a _perfect_ thing--I wouldn'tsleep to-night if you used a heavy spoon and plunged it in as if itwas a suet-pudding!"

"I won't forget, " Norah promised her, resisting a wild desire tolaugh. 

"That's a dear, " said the cook-lady, disregarding the relations ofemployer and employed, in the heat of professional enthusiasm. "Andyou'll help it as quickly as possible, won't you? It will be put onthe table after all the other sweets. Every second will be ofimportance!" She sighed. "A _souffle_ never gets a fair chance. Itought, of course, to be put on a table beside the kitchen-range, andcut within two seconds of leaving the oven. With a _hot_ spoon!" Shesighed tragically. 

"We'll do our best for it, " Norah promised her. "I'm sure it will belovely. Shall I come and tell you how it looked, afterwards?"

Miss de Lisle beamed. 

"Now, that would be very kind of you, " she said. "It's so seldom thatany one realizes what these things mean to the cook. A _souffle_ likethis is an inspiration--like a sonata to a musician. But no one everdreams of the cook; and the most you can expect from a butler is, 'Oh, it cut very nice, ma'am, I'm sure. Very nice!'" She made adespairing gesture. "But some people would call Chopin 'very nice'!"

"Miss de Lisle, " said Norah earnestly, "some day when we haven't anyguests and Dad goes to London, we'll give every one else a holiday andyou and I will have lunch here together. And we'll have that_souffle_, and eat it beside the range!"

For a moment Miss de Lisle had no words. 

"Well!" she said at length explosively. "And I was so horrible to youat first!" To Norah's amazement and dismay a large tear trickled downone cheek, and her mouth quivered like a child's. "Dear me, howfoolish I am, " said the poor cook-lady, rubbing her face with heroverall, and thereby streaking it most curiously with flour. "Thankyou very much, my dear. Even if we never manage it, I won't forgetthat you said it!"

Norah found herself patting the stalwart shoulder. 

"Indeed, we'll manage it, " she said. "Now, don't you worry aboutanything but that lovely _souffle_. "

"Oh, the _souffle_ is assured now, " said Miss de Lisle, beating hermixture scientifically. "Now I shall have beautiful thoughts to putinto it! You have no idea what that means. Now, if I sat heremixing, and thought of, say, Mrs. Atkins, it would probably be asheavy as lead!" She sighed. "I believe, Miss Linton, I could teachyou something of the real poetry of cooking. I'm sure you have theright sort of soul!"

Norah looked embarrassed. 

"Jim says I've no soul beyond mustering cattle, " she said, laughing. "We'll prove him wrong, some day, Miss de Lisle, shall we? Now I mustgo: the motor will be back presently. " She turned, suddenly consciousof a baleful glance. 

"Oh!--Mrs. Atkins!" she said feebly. 

"I came, " said Mrs. Atkins stonily, "to see if any help was needed inthe kitchen. Perhaps, as you are here, miss, you would be so good asto ask the cook?"

"Oh--nothing, thank you, " said Miss de Lisle airily, over hershoulder. Mrs. Atkins sniffed, and withdrew. 

"That's done it, hasn't it?" said the cook-lady. "Well, don't worry, my dear; I'll see you through anything. "

A white-capped head peeped in. 

"'Tis yersilf has all the luck of the place, Katty O'Gorman!" saidBride enviously. "An' that Sarah won't give me so much as a look-in, above: if it was to turn down the beds, itself, it's as much as she'lldo to let me. Could I give you a hand here at all, Miss de Lisle?God help us, there's Miss Norah!"

"If 'tis the way you'd but let her baste the turkey for a minyit, she'd go upstairs reshted in hersilf, " said Katty in a loud whisper. "The creature's destroyed with bein' out of all the fun. "

"Oh, come in--if you're not afraid of Mrs. Atkins, " said Miss deLisle. Norah had a vision of Bride, ecstatically grasping abasting-ladle, as she made her own escape. 

Allenby was just shutting the hall-door as she turned the corner. Atall man in a big military greatcoat was shaking hands with herfather. 

"Here's Captain Hardress, Norah. "

Norah found herself looking up into a face that at the first glanceshe thought one of the ugliest she had ever seen. Then the newcomersmiled, and suddenly the ugliness seemed to vanish. 

"It's too bad to take you by storm this way. But your brotherwouldn't hear of anything else. "

"Of course not, " said Mr. Linton. "My daughter was rather afraid youmight be a brigadier. She loses her nerve at the idea of pouring teafor anything above a colonel. "

"Indeed, a colonel's bad enough, " said Norah ruefully. "I'maccustomed to people with one or two stars: even three are ratheralarming!" She shot a glance at his shoulder, laughing. 

"I'm sure you're not half as alarmed as I was at coming, " said CaptainHardress. "I've been so long in hospital that I've almost forgottenhow to speak to any one except doctors and nurses. " His face, thatlit up so completely when he smiled, relapsed into gloom. 

"Well, you mustn't stand here, " Norah said. "Please tell me if you'dlike dinner in your room, or if you'd rather come down. " She had asudden vision of Mrs. West's shrill voice, and decided that she mightbe tiring to this man with the gaunt, sad face. 

Hardress hesitated. 

"I think you'd better stay upstairs, " said David Linton. "Just forto-night--till you feel rested. I'll come and smoke a pipe with youafter dinner, if I may. "

"I should like that awfully, " said Hardress. "Well, if you're sure itwould not be too much trouble, Miss Linton----?"

"It's not a scrap of trouble, " she said. "Allenby will show you theway. See that Captain Hardress has a good fire, Allenby--and takesome papers and magazines up. " She looked sadly after the tall figureas it limped away. He was not much older than Jim, but his face helda world of bitter experience. 

"You mustn't let the Tired People make you unhappy, mate, " said herfather. He put his arm round her as they went into the drawing-roomto await their guests. "Remember, they wouldn't be here if theydidn't need help of some sort. "

"I won't be stupid, " said Norah. "But he has such a sorry face, Dad, when he doesn't smile. "

"Then our job is to keep him smiling, " said David Linton practically. 

There came a high-pitched voice in the hall, and Mrs. West swept in, her husband following at her heels. To Norah's inexperienced eyes, she was more gorgeous than the Queen of Sheba, in a dress of sequinsthat glittered and flashed with every movement. Sarah, who hadassisted in her toilette, reported to the kitchen that she didn't takemuch stock in a dress that was moulting its sequins for all the worldlike an old hen; but Norah saw no deficiencies, and was greatlyimpressed by her guest's magnificence. She was also rather overcomeby her eloquence, which had the effect of making her feel speechless. Not that that greatly mattered, as Mrs. West never noticed whether anyone else happened to speak or remain silent, so long as they did nothappen to drown her own voice. 

"Such a lovely room!" she twittered. "_So_ comfortable. And I feelsure there is an exquisite view. And a fire in one's bedroom--inwar-time! Dear me, I feel I ought to protest, only I haven'tsufficient moral courage; and those pine logs are _too_ delicious. Perhaps you are burning your own timber?--ah, I thought so. Thatmakes it easier for me to refrain from prodding up my moralcourage--ha, ha!"

Norah hunted for a reply, and failed to find one. 

"And you are actually Australians!" Mrs. West ran on. "_So_interesting! I always do think that Australians are so original--soquaintly original. It must be the wild life you lead. So unlikedear, quiet little England. Bushrangers, and savage natives, andgold-mining. How I should like to see it all!"

"Oh, you would find other attractions as well, Mrs. West, " Mr. Lintontold her. "The 'wild life in savage places' phase of Australianhistory is rather a back number. "

"Oh, quite--quite, " agreed his guest. "We stay-at-homes know solittle of the other side of the world. But we are not aloof--notuninterested. We recognize the fascination of it all. Theglamour--yes, the glamour. Gordon's poems bring it all before one, dothey not? Such a true Australian! You must be very proud of him. "

"We are--but he wasn't an Australian, " said Mr. Linton. The ladysailed on, unheeding. 

"Yes. The voice of the native-born. And your splendid soldiers, too!--I assure you I thrill whenever I meet one of the dear fellows inthe street in London. So tall and stern under their greatslouch-hats. Outposts of Empire, that is what I say to myself. Outposts here, in the heart of our dear little Surrey! Linking theends of the earth, as it were. The strangeness of it all!"

Garrett, who had made an unobtrusive entrance some little time before, and had been enjoying himself hugely in the background, now came up tothe group on the hearthrug and was duly introduced. 

"Lately from France, did you say?" asked Mrs. West. "Yesterday!Fancy! Like coming from one world into another, is it not, CaptainGarrett? To be only yesterday 'mid the thunder of shot and shell outyonder; and to-night in----"

"In dear little Surrey, " said Garrett innocently. 

"Quite. Such a peaceful county--war seems so remote. You must tellme some of your experiences to-morrow. "

"Oh, I never have any, " said Garrett hastily. 

"Now, now!" She shook a playful forefinger at him. "I was a motherto my husband's regiment, Captain Garrett, I assure you. Quite. Iused to say to all our subalterns, 'Now, remember that this house isopen to you at any time. ' I felt that they were so far from their ownhomes. 'Bring your troubles to me, ' I would say, 'and let usstraighten them out together. '"

"And did they?" Garrett asked. 

"They understood me. They knew I wanted to help them. And my husbandencouraged them to come. "

"Takes some encouragin', the subaltern of the present day, unless it'sto tennis and two-step, " said Colonel West. 

"But such dear boys! I felt their mothers would have been so glad. And our regiment had quite a name for nice subalterns. There issomething so delightful about a subaltern--so care-free. "

"By Jove, yes!" said Colonel West. "Doesn't care for anything onearth--not even the adjutant!"

"Now, Algernon----" But at that moment dinner was announced, and therest of the sentence was lost--which was an unusual fate for anyremark of Mrs. West's. 

It was Norah's first experience as hostess at her father'sdinner-table--since, in this connexion, Billabong did not seem tocount. No one could ever have been nervous at Billabong. Besides, there was no butler there: here, Allenby, gravely irreproachable, withSarah and Bride as attendant sprites, seemed to intensify thesolemnity of everything. However, no one seemed to notice anythingunusual, and conversation flowed apace. Colonel West did not want totalk: such cooking as Miss de Lisle's appeared to him to deserve thecompliment of silence, and he ate in an abstraction that left Garrettfree to talk to Norah; while Mrs. West overwhelmed Mr. Linton with asteady flow of eloquence that began with the soup and lasted untildessert. Then Norah and Mrs. West withdrew leaving the men to smoke. 

"My dear, your cook's a poem, " said Mrs. West, as they returned to thedrawing-room. "_Such_ a dinner! That _souffle_--well, words failme!"

"I'm so glad you liked it, " Norah said. 

"It melted in the mouth. And I watched you help it; your face was soanxious--you insinuated the spoon with such an expression--I couldn'tdescribe it----"

Norah burst out laughing. 

"I could, " she said. "The cook was so anxious about that _souffle_, and she said to do it justice it should be helped with a hot spoon. So I told Allenby to stand the spoon in a jug of boiling water, andgive it to me at the very last moment. He was holding it in thenapkin he had for drying it, I suppose, and he didn't know that thehandle was nearly red-hot. But I did, when I took it up!"

"My dear child!" exclaimed Mrs. West. "So your expression was due toagony!"

"Something like it, " Norah laughed. "It was just all I could do tohold it. But the _souffle was_ worth it, wasn't it? I must tell Missde Lisle. "

"Miss de Lisle? Your cook?"

"Yes--it sounds well, doesn't it?" said Norah. "She's a dear, too. "

"She is certainly a treasure, " said Mrs. West. "Since the regimentwent out I have been living in horrible boarding-houses, where theyhalf-starve you, and what they do give you to eat is so murdered inthe cooking that you can hardly swallow it. Economical for themanagement, but not very good for the guests. But one must takethings as they come, in this horrible war. " She paused, the forcedsmile fading from her lips. Somehow Norah felt that she was sorry forher: she looked suddenly old, and worn and tired. 

"Come and sit in this big chair, Mrs. West, " she said. "You must havehad a long day. "

"Well, quite, " said Mrs. West. "You see, I went to take my husbandfrom the hospital at twelve o'clock, and then I found that your fatherhad made this delightful arrangement for us. It seemed too good to betrue. So I had to send Algernon to his club, and I rushed back to myboarding-house and packed my things: and then I had to do someshopping, and meet them at the station. And of course I never couldget a taxi when I wanted one. I really think I am a little tired. This seems the kind of house where it doesn't matter to admit it. "

"Of course not--isn't it a Home for Tired People?" Norah laughed. Sarah entered with coffee, and she fussed gently about her guest, settling her cushions and bringing her cup to her side with cream andsugar. 

"It's very delightful to be taken care of, " said Mrs. West, with asigh. The affected, jerky manner dropped from her, and she becamemore natural. "My children are all boys: I often have been sorry thatone was not a girl. A daughter must be a great comfort. Have you anysisters, my dear?"

"No. Just one brother--he's in Captain Garrett's regiment. "

"And you will go back to Australia after the war?"

"Oh, yes. We couldn't possibly stay away from Australia, " Norah said, wide-eyed. "You see, it's home. "

"And England has not made you care any less for it?"

"Goodness, no!" Norah said warmly. "It's all very well in its way, but it simply can't hold a candle to Australia!"

"But why?"

Norah hesitated. 

"It's a bit hard to say, " she answered at length. "Life is morecomfortable here, in some ways: more luxuries and conveniences ofliving, I mean. And England is beautiful, and it's full of history, and we all love it for that. But it isn't our own country. Thepeople are different--more reserved, and stiffer. But it isn't eventhat. I don't know, " said Norah, getting tangled--"I think it's theair, and the space, and the freedom that we're used to, and we missthem all the time. And the jolly country life----"

"But English country life is jolly. "

"I think we'd get tired of it, " said Norah. "It seems to us all play:and in Australia, we work. Even if you go out for a ride there, mostlikely there is a job hanging to it--to bring in cattle, or countthem, or see that a fence is all right, or to bring home the mail. Every one is busy, and the life all round is interesting. I don'tthink I explain at all well; I expect the real explanation is justthat the love for one's own country is in one's bones!"

"Quite!" said Mrs. West. "Quite!" But she said the ridiculous wordas though for once she understood, and there was a comfortable littlesilence between them for a few minutes. Then the men came in, and theevening went by quickly enough with games and music. Captain Garrettproved to be the possessor of a very fair tenor, together with a knackof vamping not unmelodious accompaniments. The cheery songs floatedout into the hall, where Bride and Katty crouched behind a screen, torn between delight and nervousness. 

"If the Ould Thing was to come she'd have the hair torn off of us, "breathed Katty. "But 'tis worth the rishk. Blessed Hour, haven't hethe lovely voice?"

"He have--but I'd rather listen to Miss Norah, " said Bride loyally. "'Tisn't the big voice she do be having, but it's thathappy-sounding. "

It was after ten o'clock when Norah, having said good-night to herguests and shown Mrs. West to her room, went softly along thecorridor. A light showed under Miss de Lisle's doorway, and shetapped gently. 

The door opened, revealing the cook-lady's comfortable littlesitting-room, with a fire burning merrily in the grate. The cook-ladyherself was an extraordinarily altered being, in a pale-blue kimonowith heavy white embroidery. 

"I hoped you would come, " she said. "Are you tired? Poor child, whatan evening! I wonder would you have a cup of cocoa with me here? Ihave it ready. "

She waved a large hand towards a fat brown jug standing on a trivet bythe grate. There was a tray on a little table, bearing cups andsaucers and a spongecake. Norah gave way promptly. 

"I'd love it, " she said. "How good of you. I was much too excited toeat dinner. But the _souffle_ was just perfect, Miss de Lisle. Inever saw anything like it. Mrs. West raved about it after dinner. "

"I am glad, " said the cook-lady, with the rapt expression of ahigh-priestess. "Allenby told me how you arranged for a hot spoon. It was beautiful of you: beautiful!"

"Did he tell you how hot it was?" Norah inquired. They grew merryover the story, and the spongecake dwindled simultaneously with thecocoa in the jug. 

"I must go, " Norah said at last. "It's been so nice: thank you everso, Miss de Lisle. "

"It's I who should thank you for staying, " said the big woman, rising. "Will you come again, some time?"

"Rather! if I may. Good-night. " She shut the door softly, andscurried along to her room--unconscious that another doorway was acouple of inches ajar, and that through the space Mrs. Atkins regardedher balefully. 

Her father's door was half-open, and the room was lit. Norah knocked. 

"Come in, " said Mr. Linton. "You, you bad child! I thought you werein bed long ago. "

"I'm going now, " Norah said. "How did things go off, Daddy?"

"Quite well, " he said. "And my daughter made a good hostess. I thinkthey all enjoyed themselves, Norah. "

"I think so, " said she. "They seemed happy enough. What aboutCaptain Hardress, Dad?"

"He seemed comfortable, " Mr. Linton answered. "I found him on acouch, with a rug over him, reading. Allenby said he ate a fairdinner. He's a nice fellow, Norah; I like him. "

"Was he badly wounded, Dad?"

"He didn't say much about himself. I gathered that he had been a longwhile in hospital. But I'm sorry for him, Norah; he seems very downon his luck. "

"Jim said so, " remarked Norah. "Well, we must try to buck him up. Isuppose Allenby will look after him, Dad, if he needs anything?"

"I told him to, " said Mr. Linton, with a grin. "He looked at mecoldly, and said, 'I 'ope, sir, I know my duty to a wounded officer. 'I believe I found myself apologizing. There are times when Allenbyquite fails to hide his opinion of a mere civilian: I see myselfsinking lower and lower in his eyes as we fill this place up withkhaki: Good-night, Norah. "

CHAPTER IX

HOMEWOOD GETS BUSY

"Good morning, Captain Hardress. "

Hardress turned. He was standing in the porch, looking out over thepark towards the yellowing woods. 

"Good morning, Miss Linton. I hope you'll forgive me for being solazy as to stay in bed for breakfast. You'll have to blame yourbutler: he simply didn't call me. The first thing I knew was anenormous tray with enough breakfast for six men--and Allenby grinningbehind it. "

"You stay in bed to breakfast here, or get up, just as you feelinclined, " Norah said. "There aren't any rules except two. "

"Isn't that a bit Irish?"

"Not exactly, because Jim says even those two may be broken. But Idon't agree to that--at least, not for Rule 2. "

"Do tell me them, " he begged. 

"Rule 1 is, 'Bed at ten o'clock. ' That's the one that may be brokenwhen necessary. Rule 2 is, 'Please do just what you feel like doing. 'That's the one I won't have broken--unless any one wants to do thingsthat aren't good for them. Then I shall remember that they arepatients, and become severe. "

"But I'm not a patient. "

"No--but you're tired. You've got to get quite fit. What would youlike to do? Would you care to come for a ride?"

Hardress flushed darkly. 

"Afraid I can't ride. "

"Oh--I'm sorry, " said Norah, looking at him in astonishment. Thislean, active-looking fellow with the nervous hands certainly looked asthough he should be able to ride. Indeed, there were no men inNorah's world who could not. But, perhaps----

"What about a walk, then?" she inquired. "Do you feel up to it?"

Again Hardress flushed. 

"I thought your brother would have explained, " he said heavily. "Ican't do anything much, Miss Linton. You see, I've only one leg. "

Norah's grey eyes were wide with distress. 

"I didn't know, " she faltered. "The telephone was out of order--Jimcouldn't explain. I'm so terribly sorry--you must have thought mestupid. "

"Not a bit--after all, it's rather a compliment to the shop-madearticle. I was afraid it was evident enough. "

"Indeed it isn't, " Norah assured him. "I knew you limped alittle--but it wasn't very noticeable. "

"It's supposed to be a special one, " Hardress said. "I'm hardly usedto it yet, though, and it feels awkward enough. They've beenexperimenting with it for some time, and now I'm a sort of trial casefor that brand of leg. The maker swears I'll be able to dance withit: he's a hopeful soul. I'm not. "

"You ought to try to be, " Norah said. "And it really must be a verygood one. " She felt a kind of horror at talking of it in thiscold-blooded fashion. 

"I think most of the hopefulness was knocked out of me, " Hardressanswered. "You see, I wanted to save the old leg, and they tried to:and then it was a case of one operation after another, until at lastthey took it off--near the hip. "

Norah went white. 

"Near the hip!" Her voice shook. "Oh, it couldn't be--you're so bigand strong!"

Hardress laughed grimly. 

"I used to think it couldn't be, myself, " he said. "Well, I supposeone will get accustomed to it in time. I'm sorry I distressed you, Miss Linton--only I thought I had better make a clean breast of it. "

"I'm glad you did. " Norah had found control of her voice and herwits: she remembered that this maimed lad with the set face was thereto be helped, and that it was part of her job to do it. Her very soulwas wrung with pity, but she forced a smile. 

"Now you have just got to let us help, " she said. "We can't try tomake forget it, I know, but we can help to make the best of it. Youcan practise using it in all sorts of ways, and seeing just what youcan do with it. And, Captain Hardress, I know they do wonders nowwith artificial legs: Dad knew of a man who played tennis with his--asbad a case as yours. "

"That certainly seems too good to be true, " said Hardress. 

"I don't know about that, " said Norah eagerly. "Your leg must be verygood--none of us guessed the truth about it. When you get used to it, you'll be able to manage all sorts of things. Golf, forinstance--there's a jolly little nine-hole course in the park, and Iknow you could play. "

"I had thought golf might be a possibility, " he said. "Not that Iever cared much for it. My two games were polo and Rugby football. "

"I don't know about Rugby, " said Norah thoughtfully. "But of courseyou'll play polo again. Some one was writing in one of the paperslately, saying that so many men had lost a leg in the war that themakers would have to invent special riding-legs, for hunting and polo. I know very well that if Jim came home without a leg he'd still gomustering cattle, or know the reason why! And there was the case ofan Irishman, a while ago, who had no legs at all--and he used tohunt. "

"By Jove!" said Hardress. "Well, you cheer a fellow up, Miss Linton. "

"You see, I have Jim and Wally, " said Norah. "Do you know Wally, bythe way?"

"Is that Meadows?--oh yes, I met him with your brother. "

"Well, he's just like my brother--he nearly lives with us. And fromthe time that they joined up we had to think of the chance of theirlosing a limb. Jim never says anything about it, but I know Wallydreads it. Dad and I found out all we could about artificial limbs, and what can be done with them, so that we could help the boys if theyhad bad luck. They are all right, so far, but of course there isalways the chance. "

Hardress nodded. 

"We planned that if bad luck came we would try to get them to do asmuch as possible. Of course an arm is worse: to lose a leg is badenough, goodness knows--but it's better than an arm. "

"That's one of the problems I've been studying, " Hardress said grimly. 

"Oh, but it is. And with you--why, in a few years no one will everguess that you have anything wrong. It's luck in one way, because aleg doesn't make you conspicuous, and an arm does. "

"That's true, " he said energetically. "I have hoped desperately thatI'd be able to hide it; I just couldn't stick the idea of peoplelooking at me. "

"Well, they won't, " said Norah. "And the more you can carry on asusual, the less bad it will seem. Now, let's plan what you can tacklefirst. Can you walk much?"

"Not much. I get tired after about fifty yards. "

"Well, we'll do fifty yards whenever you feel like it, and then we'llsit down and talk until you can go on again. " She hesitated. "You--it doesn't trouble you to sit down?"

"Oh, no!" said Hardress, laughing for the first time. "It's anawfully docile leg!"

"Then, can you drive? There's the motor, and a roomy tub-cart, andthe carriage. "

"Yes--I can drive. "

"Oh, I say!" cried Norah inelegantly, struck by a brilliant idea. "Can you drive a motor?"

"No, I can't! I'm sorry. "

"I'm not. Con will teach you--it will give you quite a new interest. Would you like to learn?"

"By Jove, I would, " he said eagerly. "You're sure your father won'tmind my risking his car?"

"Dad would laugh at such a foolish question, " said Norah. "We'll goand see Con now--shall we? it's not far to the stables. You mighthave a lesson at once. "

"Rather!" he said boyishly. "I say, Miss Linton, you are a brick!"

"Now about golf, " Norah said, as they moved slowly away, Hardressleaning heavily on his stick. "Will you try to play a little with me?We could begin at the practice-holes beyond the terrace. "

"Yes, I'd like to, " he said. 

"And billiards? We'll wait for a wet day, because I want you to livein the open air as much as possible. I can't play decently, butCaptain Garrett is staying here, and Jim and Wally come over prettyoften. "

"You might let me teach _you_ to play, " he suggested. "Would you careto?"

"Oh, I'd love it, " said Norah, beaming. The beam, had he known it, was one of delight at the new ring in her patient's voice. Life hadcome back to it: he held his head erect, and his eyes were no longerhopeless. 

"And riding?" she hesitated. 

"I don't know, " he said. "I don't believe I could even get on. "

"There's a steady old pony, " Norah said. "Why not practise on him?He stands like a rock. I won't stay and look at you, but Concould--you see he's lost a leg himself, so you wouldn't mind him. I'msure you'll find you can manage--and when you get confidence we'll goout together. "

"Well, you would put hope into--into a dead codfish!" he said. "GreatScott, if I thought I could get on a horse again!"

Norah laughed. 

"We're all horse-mad, " she said. "If I were--like you, I know that toride would be the thing that would help me most. So you have just gotto. " They had arrived at the stables, where Con had the car out andwas lovingly polishing its bonnet. 

"Con, can you teach Captain Hardress to drive?"

"Is it the car?" asked Con. "And why not, miss?"

"Can I manage it, do you think?" asked Hardress. "I've only one leg. "

"'Tis as many as I have meself, " returned Con cheerfully. "And I'mnot that bad a driver, am I, Miss Norah?"

"You're not, " Norah answered. "Now I'll leave you to Con, CaptainHardress: I suppose you'll learn all about the car before you begin todrive her. Con can run you round to the house afterwards, if you'retired. The horses are in the stables, too, if you'd care to look atthem. "

"Jones have the brown pair out, miss, " said Con. "But the others areall here. "

"Well, you can show them to Captain Hardress, Con. I want him tobegin riding Brecon. "

She smiled at Hardress, and ran off, looking back just before theshrubberies hid the stable-yard. Hardress was peering into the bonnetof the car, with Con evidently explaining its inner mysteries; just asshe looked, he straightened up, and threw off his coat with a quickgesture. 

"_He_'s all right, " said Norah happily. She hurried on. 

The Tired People were off her hands for the morning. Colonel and Mrs. West had gone for a drive; Captain Garrett was playing golf with MajorHunt, who was developing rapidly in playing a one-armed game, and wasextremely interested in his own progress. It was the day for postingto Australia, and there was a long letter to Brownie to be finished, and one to Jean Yorke, her chum in Melbourne. Already it was late; inthe study, her father had been deep in his letters for over an hour. 

But as she came up to the porch she saw him in the hall. 

"Oh--Norah, " he said with relief. "I've been looking for you. Here'sa letter from Harry Trevor, of all people!"

"Harry!" said Norah delightedly. "Oh, I'm so glad! Where is he, Dad?"

"He's in London--this letter has been wandering round after us. Weought to have had it days ago. Harry has a commission now--got it onthe field, in Gallipoli, more power to him: and he's been wounded andsent to England. But he says he's all right. "

"Oh, won't Jim and Wally be glad!" Harry Trevor was an oldschool-fellow whom Fate had taken to Western Australia; it was yearssince they had met. 

"He has two other fellows with him, he says; and he doesn't know anyone in London, nor do they. His one idea seems to be to see us. Whatare we to do, Norah? Can we have them here?"

"Why we _must_ have them, " Norah said. She made a swift mentalcalculation. "Yes--we can manage it. "

"You're sure, " asked her father, evidently relieved. "I was afraid itmight be too much for the house; and I would be very sorry to put themoff. "

"Put off Australians, even if one of them wasn't Harry!" ejaculatedNorah. "We couldn't do it! How will you get them, Dad?"

"I'll telephone to their hotel at once, " said her father. "Shall Itell them to come to-day?"

"Oh, yes. You can arrange the train, Dad. Now I'll go and see Mrs. Atkins. "

"'Tis yourself has great courage entirely, " said her father, lookingat her respectfully. "I'd rather tackle a wild buffalo!"

"I'm not sure that I wouldn't, " returned Norah. "However, she's allthe buffalo I've got, so I may as well get it over. " She turned asshe reached the door. "Tell old Harry how glad we are, Dad. Anddon't you think you ought to let Jim know?"

"Yes--I'll ring him up too. " And off went Norah, singing. ThreeAustralians--in "dear little Surrey!" It was almost too good to betrue. 

But Mrs. Atkins did not think so. She was sorting linen, with a sourface, when Norah entered her sanctum and made known her news. Thehousekeeper remained silent for a moment. 

"Well, I don't see how we're to manage, miss, " she said at length. "The house is pretty full as it is. "

"There is the big room with two single beds, " Norah said. "We can puta third bed in. They won't mind being together. "

Mrs. Atkins sniffed. 

"It isn't usual to crowd people like that, miss. "

"It won't matter in this case, " said Norah. 

"Did you say Australians, miss?" asked the housekeeper. "Officers?"

"One is an officer. "

"And the others, miss?"

"I don't know--privates, very possibly, " said Norah. "It doesn'tmatter. "

"Not matter! Well, upon my word!" ejaculated Mrs. Atkins. "Well, allI can say, miss, is that it's very funny. And how do you think themaids are going to do all that extra work?"

Norah began to experience a curious feeling of tingling. 

"I am quite sure the maids can manage it, " she said, commanding hervoice with an effort. "For one thing, I can easily help more than Ido now. "

"We're not accustomed in this country to young ladies doing that sortof thing, " said Mrs. Atkins. Her evil temper mastered her. "And yourpet cook, the fine lady who's too grand to sit with me----"

Norah found her voice suddenly calm. 

"You mustn't speak to me like that, Mrs. Atkins, " she said, marvellingat her own courage. "You will have to go away if you can't behaveproperly. "

Mrs. Atkins choked. 

"Go away!" she said thickly. "Yes, I'll go away. I'm not going tostay in a house like this, that's no more and no less than aboarding-house! You and your friend the cook can----"

"Be quiet, woman!" said a voice of thunder. Norah, who had shrunkback before the angry housekeeper, felt a throb of relief as Allenbystrode into the room. At the moment there was nothing of the butlerabout him--he was Sergeant Allenby, and Mrs. Atkins was simply arefractory private. 

"I won't be quiet!" screamed the housekeeper. "I----"

"You will do as you're told, " said Allenby, dropping a heavy hand onher shoulder. "That's enough, now: not another word. Now go to yourroom. Out of 'ere, or I'll send for the police. "

Something in the hard, quiet voice filled Mrs. Atkins with terror. She cast a bitter look at Norah, and then slunk out of the room. Allenby closed the door behind her. 

"I'm very sorry, miss, " he said--butler once more. "I hope she didn'tfrighten you. "

"Oh, no--only she was rather horrible, " said Norah. "Whatever is thematter with her, Allenby? I hadn't said anything to make her soidiotic. "

"I've been suspecting what was the matter these last three days, " saidAllenby darkly. "Look 'ere, miss. " He opened a cupboard, disclosingrows of empty bottles. "I found these 'ere this morning when she wasin the kitchen: I'd been missing bottles from the cellar. She musthave another key to the cellar-door, 'owever she managed it. "

There came a tap at the door, and Mr. Linton came in--to have thesituation briefly explained to him. 

"I wouldn't have had it happen for something, " he said angrily. "Mypoor little girl, I didn't think we were letting you in for this sortof thing. "

"Why, you couldn't help it, " Norah said. "And she didn't hurt me--shewas only unpleasant. But I think we had better keep her out of Missde Lisle's way, or she might be hard to handle. "

"That's so, miss, " said Allenby. "I'll go and see. 'Ard to 'andle!I should think so!"

"See that she packs her box, Allenby, " said Mr. Linton. "I'll writeher cheque at once, and Con can take her to the station as soon as sheis ready. She's not too bad to travel, I suppose?"

"She's not bad at all, sir. Only enough to make her nasty. "

"Well, she can go and be nasty somewhere else, " said Mr. Linton. "Very well, Allenby. " He turned to Norah, looking unhappy. "Whateverwill you do, my girl?--and this houseful of people! I'd bettertelephone Harry and put his party off. "

"Indeed you won't, " said Norah, very cheerfully. "I'll manage, Dad. Don't you worry. I'm going to talk to Miss de Lisle. "

The cook-lady was not in the kitchen. Katty, washing vegetablesdiligently, referred Norah to her sitting-room, and there she wasfound, knitting a long khaki muffler. She heard the story in silence. 

"So I must do just the best I can, Miss de Lisle, " Norah ended. "AndI'm wondering if you think I must really advertise for anotherhousekeeper. It didn't seem to me that Mrs. Atkins did much exceptgive orders, and surely I can do that, after a little practice. "Norah flushed, and looked anxious. "Of course I don't want to make amess of the whole thing. I know the house must be well run. "

"Well, " said Miss de Lisle, knitting with feverish energy, "I couldn'thave said it if you hadn't asked me, but as you have, I would like topropose something. Perhaps it may sound as if I thought too much ofmyself, but with a cook like me you don't need a housekeeper. I havea conscience: and I know how things ought to be run. So my proposalis this, and you and your father must just do as you like about it. Why not make me cook-housekeeper?"

"Oh, but could you?" Norah cried delightedly. "Wouldn't it be toomuch work?"

"I don't think so--of course I'm expecting that you're going to helpin supervising things. I can teach you anything. You see, Katty is atreasure. I back down in all I ever thought about Irish maids, " saidthe cook-lady, parenthetically. "And she makes me laugh all day, andI wouldn't be without her for anything. Give me a smart boy in thekitchen for the rough work; then Katty can do more of the plaincooking, which she'll love, and I shall have more time out of thekitchen. Now what do you say?"

"Me?" said Norah. "I'd like to hug you!"

"I wish you would, " said Miss de Lisle, knitting more frantically thanever. "You see, this is the first place I've been in where I'vereally been treated like a human being. You didn't patronize me, andyou didn't snub me--any of you. But you laughed with me; and it was amighty long time since laughing had come into my job. Dear me!"finished Miss de Lisle--"you've no idea how at home with you all I'vefelt since Allenby fell over me in the passage!"

"We loved you from that minute, " said Norah, laughing. "Then youthink we can really manage? You'll have to let me consult with youover everything--ordering, and all that: because I do want to learn myjob. And you won't mind how many people we bring in?"

"Fill the house to explosion-point, if you like, " said Miss de Lisle. "If you don't have a housekeeper you'll have two extra rooms to putyour Tired People in. What's the good of a scheme like this if youdon't run it thoroughly?"

She found herself suddenly hugged, to the no small disadvantage of theknitting. 

"Oh, I'm so happy!" Norah cried. "Now I'm going to enjoy the Home forTired People: and up till now Mrs. Atkins has lain on my soul like aton of bricks. Bless you, Miss de Lisle! I'm going to tell Dad. "Her racing footsteps flew down the corridor. 

But Miss de Lisle sat still, with a half smile on her rugged face. Once she put her hand up to the place where Norah's lips had brushedher cheek. 

"Dear me!" she murmured. "Well, it's fifteen years since any one did_that_. " Still smiling, she picked up the knitting. 

CHAPTER X

AUSTRALIA IN SURREY

The three Australians came that afternoon; and, like many Australiansin the wilds of London with a vague idea of distances, having giventhemselves good time to catch their train, managed to catch the onebefore it; and so arrived at Homewood unheralded and unsung. Norahand Captain Hardress, who had been knocking golf-balls about, werecrossing the terrace on their way to tea when the three slouched hatscaught Norah's eye through the trees of the avenue. She gasped, dropped her clubs, and fled to meet them. Hardress stared: then, perceiving the newcomers, smiled a little and went on slowly. 

"I'd like to see her doing a hundred yards!" he said. 

The three soldiers jumped as the flying figure came upon them, round abend in the drive. Then one of them sprang forward. 

"Harry!" said Norah. 

"My word, I am glad to see you!" said Harry Trevor, pumping her hand. "I say, Norah, you haven't changed a bit. You're just the same aswhen you were twelve--only that you've grown several feet. "

"Did you expect to find me bald and fat?" Norah laughed. "Oh, Harry, we are glad to see you!"

"Well, you might have aged a little, " said he. "Goodness knows _I_have! Norah, where's old Jim?"

"He's at Aldershot--but you can be certain that he'll be here as soonas he possibly can--and Wally too. "

"That's good business. " He suddenly remembered his friends, who wereaffecting great interest in the botanical features of a beech-tree. "Come here, you chaps; Norah, this is Jack Blake--and Dick Harrison. They're awfully glad to see you, too!"

"Well, you might have let us say it for ourselves, digger, " said thetwo, shaking hands. "We were just going to. "

"It's lovely to have you all, " said Norah. She looked over thetree--all tall fellows, lean and bronzed, with quiet faces anddeep-set eyes, Blake bore a sergeant's stripes; Dick Harrison's sleevemodestly proclaimed him a lance-corporal. 

"We've been wandering in that funny old London like lost sheep, " Blakesaid. "My word, that's a lonesome place, if you don't happen to knowany one in it. And people look at you as if you were something out ofa Zoo. "

"They're not used to you yet, " said Norah. "It's the hat, as much asanything. "

"I don't know about that, " Harry said. "No, I think they'd know wecame out of a different mob, even if we weren't branded. "

"Perhaps they would--and you certainly do, " Norah answered. "But comeon to the house. Dad is just as anxious to see you as any one. "

Indeed, as they came in sight of the house, David Linton was seencoming with long strides to meet them. 

"Hardress told me you had suddenly turned into a Marathon runner atthe sight of three big hats!" he said. "How are you, Harry? It's anage since we saw you. "

"Yes, isn't it?" Harry shook hands warmly, and introduced his friends. "You haven't changed either, Mr. Linton. "

"I ought to be aging--only Norah won't hear of it, " said Mr. Linton, laughing. "She bullies me more hopelessly than ever, Harry. "

"She always did, " Trevor agreed. "Oh, I want to talk about Billabongfor an hour! How's Brownie, Nor? and Murty O'Toole? and Black Billy?How do you manage to live away from them?"

"It isn't easy, " Norah answered. "They're all very fit, only theywant us back. We can't allow ourselves to think of the day that we'llget home, or we all grow light-headed. "

"It will be no end of a day for all of us, " said Harrison. "Think ofmarching down Collins Street again, with the crowd cheeringus--keeping an eye out for the people one knew! It was fairly beastlymarching up it for the last time. "

"It's not Collins Street I want, but a bit of the Gippsland track, "said Jack Blake. "You know, Dick, we took cattle there last year. Over the Haunted Hills--aren't they jolly in the spring!--and downthrough the scrub to Morwell and Traralgon. I'd give something to seethat bit of country again. "

"Ah, it's all good country, " David Linton said. Then they were at thehouse, and a buzz of conversation floated out to them from the hall, where tea was in progress. 

"Your father simply made me promise to go on without you, " said Mrs. West, as Norah made her apologies. "I said it was dreadful, but hewouldn't listen to me. And there are your friends! Dear me, howlarge they are, and so brown! Do introduce them to me: I'm planningto hear all about Australia. And a sergeant and lance-corporal!Isn't it romantic to see them among us, and quite at their ease. _Don't_ tell them I'm a Colonel's wife, my dear; I would hate them tofeel embarrassed!"

"I don't think you need worry, " said Norah, smiling to herself. Shebrought up the three newcomers and introduced them. They subsidedupon a sofa, and listened solemnly while Mrs. West opened all herconversational batteries upon them. Norah heard the opening--"I'veread such a _lot_ about your charming country!" and felt a throb ofpity for the three wanderers from afar. 

Hardress came towards her with a cup of tea, his limb a little moreevident. 

"You're tired, " she said, taking it from him. "Sure you haven't donetoo much?"

"Not a bit, " he said. "I'm a little tired, but it's the best day Ihave had for many a month. I don't know when I enjoyed anything asmuch as my motor-lesson this morning. "

"Con says you'll be able to drive in Piccadilly in no time, " saidNorah. 

"He's hopeful, " Hardress said, laughing. "Particularly as we neverstarted the car at all--he made me learn everything I could about itfirst. And did he tell you I rode Brecon?"

"No! How did you get on?" asked Norah delightedly. 

"Well, I literally got on very badly--at first. The shop leg didn'tseem to understand what was wanted of it at all, and any steed butBrecon would have strongly resented me. But he stood in a pensiveattitude while I tried all sorts of experiments. In fact, I think hewent to sleep!"

"I told you you could rely on Brecon, " Norah smiled. "What happenedthen?"

"Oh--I got used to myself, and found out the knack of getting on. It's not hard, with a steady horse, once you find out how. But Ithink Brecon will do me very well for awhile. "

"Oh, we'll soon get you on to Brunette, " Norah said. "You'd enjoyher. "

"Is that the black pony?"

"Yes--and she's a lovely hack. I'm going to hunt her in the winter:she jumps like a deer. "

"She looked a beauty, in the stable, " Hardress said. "She ought tomake a good polo-pony. " He sighed. "I wonder if I'll really everplay polo again. "

"Of course you will, " Norah told him. "This morning you didn't thinkyou would ever get on a horse again. "

"No, I certainly didn't. You have put an extraordinary amount of hopeinto me: I feel a different being. " He stopped, and a smile creptinto his eyes. "Listen--aren't your friends having a time!"

"Life must be so exciting on your great cattle ranches, " Mrs. West wassaying. "And the dear little woolly lambs on the farms--such pets!"

"We understood you people over here prefer them frozen, " Blake saidgently. "So we send 'em that way. "

Norah choked over her tea. She became aware that Colonel West wasspeaking to her, and tried to command her wits--hearing, as sheturned, Mrs. West's shrill pipe--"And what _is_ a wheat-belt? Is itsomething you wear?" Norah would have given much to hear Blake'sreply. 

"Delightful place you have here!" barked the Colonel. "Your fatherand I have been spending an agricultural afternoon; planning all thethings he means to do on that farm--Hawkins', isn't it? But I supposeyou don't take much interest in that sort of thing? Dances and frocksmore in your line--and chocolates, eh, what?"

"Then you've changed her in England, " said Harry Trevor suddenly. "Isit dances now, Norah? No more quick things over the grass after across-grained bullock? Don't say you've forgotten how to use astockwhip!"

"It's hung up at Billabong, " Norah said laughing. "But you wait untilI get back to it, that's all!"

"Dear me!" said Mrs. West. "And you do these wonderful things too! Ialways longed to do them as a girl--to ride over long leagues of plainon a fiery mustang, among your lovely eucalyptus trees. And do youreally go out with the cowboys, and use a lasso?"

"She does, " said Harry, happily. 

"Your wild animals, too, " said Mrs. West. "It's kangaroos you ridedown with spears, is it not? And wallabies. We live in dear, quietlittle England, but we read all about your wonderful life, and are oh!so interested. "

"What a life!" said Dick Harrison, under his breath. 

"Quite. You know, I had a great friend who went out as A. D. C. To oneof your Governors. He had to return after a month, because his fatherdied and he came into the baronetcy, but some day he means to write abook on Australia. That is why I have always, as it were, kept intouch with your great country. I seem to know it so well, though Ihave never seen it. "

"You do, indeed, " said Blake gravely. "I wish we knew half as muchabout yours. "

"Ah, but you must let us show it to you. Is it not yours, too?Outposts of Empire: that is what I call you: outposts of Empire. Isit not that that brought you to fight under our flag?"

"Oh, rather, " said Blake vaguely. "But a lot of us just wanted a lookin at the fun!"

"Well--you got a good deal for a start, " said Garrett. 

"Yes--Abdul gave us all we wanted on his little peninsula. But he'snot a bad fighting-man, old Abdul; we don't mind how often we take teawith him. He's a better man to fight than Fritz. "

"He could pretty easily be that, " Garrett said. "It's one of theworst grudges we owe Fritz--that he's taken all the decency out ofwar. It used to be a man's game, but the Boche made it one accordingto his own ideas--and everybody knows what they are. "

"Yes, " said Hardress. "I suppose the Boche will do a good deal ofcrawling to get back among decent people after the war; but he'llnever live down his poison-gas and flame-throwers. "

"And wouldn't it have been a gorgeous old war if he'd only foughtclean!" said Garrett longingly. They drew together and talked asfighting men will--veterans in the ways of war, though the eldest wasnot much over one-and-twenty. 

The sudden hoot of a motor came from the drive, far-off; and thenanother, and another. 

"Some one's joy-riding, " said Harry Trevor. 

The hooting increased, and with it the hum of a racing car. Thegravel outside the porch crunched as it drew up; and then came cheeryvoices, and two long figures in great coats dashed in: Jim and Wally, eager-eyed. 

"Dad! Norah! Where's old Harry?"

But Harry was grasping a hand of each, and submitting to mighty patson the back from their other hands. 

"By Jove, it's great to see you! Where did you come from, you oldreprobate? Finished Johnny Turk?"

Gradually the boys became aware that there were other people in thehall, and made apologies--interrupted by another burst of joy atdiscovering Garrett. 

"You must think us bears, " said Jim, with his disarming smile, to Mrs. West. "But we hadn't seen Trevor for years, and he's a very old chum. It would have been exciting to meet him in Australia; but inEngland--well!"

"However did you manage to come?" Norah asked, beaming. 

"Oh, we got leave. We've been good boys--at least, Wally was until wegot your message this morning. Since then he has been wandering aboutlike a lost fowl, murmuring, 'Harry! _My_ Harry!'"

"Is it me?" returned Wally. "Don't believe him, Nor--it was all Icould do to keep him from slapping the C. O. On the back and borrowinghis car to come over. "

"I don't doubt it, " Norah laughed. "Whose car did you borrow, by theway?"

"Oh, we hired one. It was extravagant, but we agreed that it wasn'tevery day we kill a pig!"

"Thank you, " said Harry. "Years haven't altered your power of puttinga thing nicely!" He smote Wally affectionately. "I say, you were akid when I saw you last: a kid in knickerbockers. And look at younow!"

"Well, you were much the same, " Wally retorted. "And now you're ahardened old warrior--I've only played at it so far. "

"But you were gassed, weren't you?"

"Yes--but we hadn't had much war before they gassed us. That was theannoying part. "

"Well, didn't you have a little private war in Ireland? What aboutthat German submarine?"

"Oh, that was sheer luck, " said Wally joyfully. "_Such_ a lark--onlyfor one thing. But we don't consider we've earned our keep yet. "

"Oh, well, you've got lots of time, " Harry said. "I wonder if they'llsend any of us to France--it would be rather fun if we got somewherein your part of the line. "

"Yes, wouldn't it?" Then Jack Blake, who had been at school with theboys, came up with Dick Harrison, and England ceased to exist for thefive Australians. They talked of their own country--old days atschool; hard-fought battles on the Melbourne Cricket Ground;boat-racing on the Yarra; Billabong and other stations; bush-fires andcattle-yarding; long days on the road with cattle, and nights spentwatching them under the stars. All the grim business of life that hadbeen theirs since those care-free days seemed but to make their ownland dearer by comparison. Not that they said so, in words. But theylingered over their talk with an unspoken delight in being at homeagain--even in memory. 

Norah slipped away, regretfully enough, after a time: herresponsibilities as housekeeper weighed upon her, and she sought Missde Lisle in the kitchen. 

"What, your brother and Mr. Wally? How delightful!" ejaculated thecook-lady. "That's what I call really jolly. Their rooms are alwaysready, I suppose?"

"Oh, yes, " Norah said. "I've told Bride to put sheets on the beds. "

"Then that's all right. Dinner? My dear, you need never worry abouta couple extra for dinner in a household of this size. Just tell themaids to lay the table accordingly, and let me know--that is all youneed do. "

"Mrs. Atkins had destroyed my nerve!" said Norah, laughing. "I camedown to tell you with the same scared feeling that I had when I usedto go to her room. My very knees were shaking!"

"Then you're a very bad child, if you _are_ my employer!" returnedMiss de Lisle. "However, I'll forgive you: but some time I want youto make a list for me of the things those big boys of yours like most:I might just as well cook them as not, when they come. And of course, when they go out to France, we shall have to send them splendidhampers. "

"That will be a tremendous comfort, " Norah said. "You're a brick, Miss de Lisle. We used to send them hampers before, of course, but itseemed so unsatisfactory just to order them at the Stores: it will beever so much nicer to cook them things. You _will_ let me cook, won'tyou?"

"Indeed I will, " said Miss de Lisle. "We'll shut ourselves up herefor a day, now and then, and have awful bouts of cookery. How did youlike the potato cakes at tea, by the way?"

"They were perfect, " Norah said. "I never tasted better, even inIreland. " At which Katty, who had just entered with a saucepan, blushed hotly, and cast an ecstatic glance at Miss de Lisle. 

"I don't suppose you did, " remarked that lady. "You see, Katty madethem. "

"Wasn't she good, now, to let me, Miss Norah?" Katty asked. "There'sthem at home that towld me I'd get no chance at all of learning undera grand cook here. 'Tis little the likes of them 'ud give you to doin the kitchen: if you asked them for a job, barring it was to washthe floor, they'd pitch you to the Sivin Divils. 'Isn't the scullerygood enough for you?' they'd say. 'Cock you up with the cooking!'But Miss de Lisle isn't one of them--and the cakes to go up to thedrawing-room itself!"

"Well, every one liked them, Katty, " Norah said. 

"Yerra, hadn't I Bridie watching behind the big screen with the crackin it?" said the handmaid. "She come back to me, and she says, 'They're all ate, ' says she: ''tis the way ye had not enough made, 'she says. I didn't know if 'twas on me head or me heels I was!" Shebent a look of adoration upon Miss de Lisle, who laughed. 

"Oh, I'll make a cook of you yet, Katty, " she said. "Meanwhile you'dbetter put some coal on the fire, or the oven won't be hot enough formy pastry. Is it early breakfast for your brother and Mr. Wally, MissLinton?"

"I'm afraid so, " Norah said. "Jim said they must leave at eighto'clock. "

"Then that means breakfast at seven-thirty. Will you have yours withthem?"

"Oh yes, please--if it's not too much trouble. "

"Nothing's a trouble--certainly not an early breakfast, " said Miss deLisle. "Now don't worry about anything. "

Norah went back to the hall--to find it deserted. A buzz of voicescame from the billiard-room; she peeped in to find all the soldierstalking with her father listening happily in a big chair. No one sawher: she withdrew, and went in search of Mrs. West, but failed to findher. Bride, encountered in her evening tour with cans of hot water, reported that 'twas lying down she was, and not wishful for talk: herresht was more to her. 

"Then I may as well go and dress, " Norah said. 

She had just finished when a quick step came along the corridor, andstopped at her door. Jim's fingers beat the tattoo that was alwaystheir signal. 

"Come in, Jimmy, " Norah cried. 

He came in, looming huge in the dainty little room. 

"Good business--you're dressed, " he said. "Can I come and yarn?"

"Rather, " said Norah, beaming. "Come and sit down in my armchair. This electric heater isn't as jolly to yarn by as a good old log fire, but still, it's something. " She pulled her chair forward. 

"Can't you wait for me to do that--bad kid!" said Jim. He sat down, and Norah subsided on the rug near him. 

"Now tell me all about everything, " he said. "How are things going?"

"Quite well--especially Mrs. Atkins, " said Norah. "In fact she'sgone!"

Jim sat up. 

"Gone! But how?"

Norah told him the story, and he listened with joyful ejaculations. 

"Well, she was always the black spot in the house, " he remarked. "Itgave one the creeps to look at her sour face, and I'm certain she wasmore bother to you than she was worth. "

"Oh, I feel twenty years younger since she went!" Norah said. "Andit's going to be great fun to housekeep with Miss de Lisle. I shalllearn ever so much. "

"So will she, I imagine, " said Jim, laughing. "Put her up to all theAustralian ways, and see if we can't make a good emigrant of her whenwe go back. "

"I might, " Norah said. "But she would be a shock to Brownie if shesuggested putting her soul into a pudding!"

"Rather!" said Jim, twinkling. "I say, tell me about Hardress. Doyou like him?"

"Oh, yes, ever so much. " She told him of her morning's work--indeed, by the time the gong boomed out its summons from the hall, there wasvery little in the daily life of Homewood that Jim had not managed tohear. 

"We're always wondering how you are getting on, " he said. "It's jollyover there--the work is quite interesting, and there's a very nice lotof fellows: but I'd like to look in at you two and see how this showwas running. " He hesitated. "It won't be long before we go out, Nor, old chap. "

"Won't it, Jimmy?" She put up a hand and caught his. "Do you knowhow long?"

"A week or two--not more. But you're not to worry. You've just gotto think of the day when we'll get our first leave--and then you'llhave to leave all your Tired People and come and paint London red. "He gave a queer laugh. "Oh, I don't know, though. It seems to beconsidered the right thing to do. But I expect we'll just amble alonghere and ask you for a job in the house!"

"Why, you'll be Tired People yourselves, " said Norah. "We'll have tolook after you and give you nourishment at short intervals. "

"We'll take that, if it's Miss de Lisle's cooking. Now don't thinkabout this business too much. I thought I'd better tell you, butnothing is definite yet. Perhaps I'd better not tell Dad. "

"No, don't; he's so happy. "

"I wish I didn't have to make either of you less happy, " Jim said in atroubled voice. "But it can't be helped. "

"No, I know it can't, Jimmy. Don't you worry. "

"Dear old chap, " said Jim, and stood up. "I had better go and makemyself presentable before the second gong goes. " He paused. "You'reall ready aren't you? Then you might go down. Wally will bewandering round everywhere, looking for you. "

CHAPTER XI

CHEERO!

It was ten days later that the summons to France came--ten days duringwhich the boys had managed to make several meteoric dashes over toHomewood for the night, and had accomplished one blissful week-end, during which, with the aid of their fellow-countrymen, they hadbrought the household to the verge of exhaustion from laughter. Nothing could damp their spirits: they rode and danced, sang andjoked, and, apparently, having no cares in the world themselves, weredetermined that no one else should have any. The Hunt family weredrawn into the fun: the kitchen was frequently invaded, and Miss deLisle declared that even her sitting-room was not sacred--and wasprivately very delighted that it was not. Allenby began to develop aregrettable lack of control over his once stolid features; Sarahherself was observed to stuff her apron into her mouth and rush fromthe dining-room on more than one occasion. And under cover of hismost energetic fooling Jim Linton watched his father and sister, andfooled the more happily whenever he made them laugh. 

They arrived together unexpectedly on this last evening, preferring tobring their news rather than give it by telephone; and found, insteadof the usual cheery tea-party in the hall, only silence and emptiness. Allenby, appearing, broke into a broad smile of pleasure as he greetedthem. 

"Every one's out, Mr. Jim. "

"So it seems, " Jim answered. "Where are they?"

"Not very far, sir, " Allenby said. "Mrs. 'Unt has them all to teawith her to-day. "

"Oh, we'll go over, Wal, " Jim said. "Come and make yourself pretty:you've a splash of mud on your downy cheek. " At the foot of thestairs he turned. "We're off to-morrow, Allenby. "

Allenby's face fell. 

"To France, sir?"

Jim nodded. 

"The master and Miss Norah will be very sorry, sir. If I may say so, the 'ole 'ousehold will be sorry. "

"Thanks, Allenby. We'll miss you all, " Jim said pleasantly. Hesprang upstairs after Wally. 

Mrs. Hunt's sitting-room was already dangerously crowded--there seemedno room at all for the two tall lads for whom Eva opened the door tenminutes later. A chorus of welcome greeted them, nevertheless. 

"This is delightful, " said Mrs. Hunt. "I'm sure I don't know howyou're going to fit in, but you must manage it somehow. If necessarywe'll all stand up and re-pack ourselves, but I warn you it is risky:the walls may not stand it!"

"Oh, don't trouble, Mrs. Hunt, " Jim said. "We're quite all right. "Both boys' eyes had sought Norah as they entered: and Norah, meetingthe glance, felt a sudden pang at her heart, and knew. 

"My chair is ever so much too big for me, " she said. "You can eachhave an arm. "

"Good idea!" said Wally, perching on the broad arm of the easy-chairthat swallowed her up. "Come along, Jim, or we'll be lop-sided!"

"We put Norah in the biggest chair in the room, and everybody istreating her with profound respect, " Mrs. Hunt said. "This is thefirst day for quite a while that she hasn't been hostess, so we madeher chief guest, and she is having a rest-cure. "

"If you treat Norah with respect it won't have at all a restful effecton her, " said Wally. "I've tried. " To which Norah inquired, "When?"in a voice of such amazement that every one laughed. 

"Misunderstood as usual, " said Wally pathetically. "It really doesn'tpay to be like me and have a meek spirit: people only think you are aworm, and trample on you. Come here, Geoff, and take care of me:" andGeoffrey, who adored him, came. "Have you been riding old Breconlately?"

"'M!" said Geoffrey, nodding. "I can canter now!"

"Good man! Any tosses?"

"Well, just one, " Geoffrey admitted. "He cantered before I had gottedready, and I fell off. But it didn't hurt. "

"That's right. You practise always falling on a soft spot, and youneed never worry. "

"But I'd rather practise sticking on, " said Geoffrey. "It's nicer. "

"You might practise both, " said Wally. "You'll have plenty of both, you know. " He laughed at the puzzled face. "Never mind, old chap. How are the others, and why aren't they here?"

"They're too little, " Geoffrey said loftily. "Small childrens don'tcome in to tea, at least not when there's parties. I came, 'causeMother says I'm getting 'normous. "

"So you are. Are the others quite well?"

"Oh yes, " Geoffrey answered, clearly regarding the question asfoolish. "They're all right. Alison's got a puppy, and Michael'sbeen eating plate-powder. His mouf was all pink. "

"What's that about my Michael, " demanded Mrs. Hunt. "Oh yes--we foundhim making a hearty meal of plate-powder this morning. Douglas saysit should make him very bright. I'm thankful to say it doesn't seemto be going to kill him. "

"Michael never will realize that there is a war on, " said Major Hunt, aggrieved. "I found him gnawing the strap of one of my gaiters theother day. "

"You shouldn't underfeed the poor kid, " said Wally. "It's clear thathe's finding his nourishment when and how he can. Isn't there aSociety for dealing with people like you?"

"There is, " said Jim solemnly. "It's called the Police Force. "

"You're two horrible boys!" said their hostess, laughing. "And mylovely fat Michael!--he's getting so corpulent he can hardly waddle. He and the puppy are really very like each other; both of them find iteasier to roll than to run. " She cast an inquiring eye round theroom: "Some more tea, Norah?"

"No, thank you, Mrs. Hunt. " Norah's voice sounded strange in her ownears. She wanted to get away from the room, and the light-heartedchatter . . . To make sure, though she was sure already. The guns ofFrance seemed to sound very near her. 

The party broke up after a while. Jim and Wally lingered behind theothers. 

"Will you and the Major come over this evening, Mrs. Hunt? We're offto-morrow. "

"Oh--I'm sorry. " Mrs. Hunt's face fell. "Poor Norah!"

"Norah will keep smiling, " said Jim. "But I'm jolly glad you're sonear her, Mrs. Hunt. You'll keep an eye on them, won't you? I'd beawfully obliged if you would. "

"You may be very sure I will, " she said. "And there will be atremendous welcome whenever you get leave. "

"We won't lose any time in coming for it, " Jim said. "Blighty meansmore than ever it did, now that we've got a real home. Then you'llcome to-night?"

"Of course we will. " She watched them stride off into the shrubbery, and choked back a sigh. 

Norah came back to them through the trees. 

"It's marching orders, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's marching orders, old kiddie, " Jim answered. They looked ateach other steadily: and then Norah's eyes met Wally's. 

"When?" she asked. 

"To-morrow morning. "

"Well----" said Norah; and drew a long breath. "And I haven't yourlast week's socks darned! That comes of having too manyresponsibilities. Any buttons to be sewn on for either of you?"

"No, thanks, " they told her, greatly relieved. She tucked a hand intoan arm of each boy, and they went towards the house. David Lintoncame out hurriedly to meet them. 

"Allenby says----" he began. He did not need to go further. 

"We were trotting in to tell you, " said Jim. 

"We'll be just in time to give the Boche a cheery Christmas, " saidWally. "Norah, are you going to send us a Christmas hamper? With apudding?"

"Rather!" Norah answered. "And I'll put a lucky pig, and a button, and a threepenny-bit in it, so you'd better eat it with care, or youmay damage your teeth. Miss de Lisle and I are going to plan greatparcels for you; she's going to teach me to cook all sorts of things. "

"After which you'll try them on the dogs--meaning us, " Jim said, laughing. "Well, if we don't go into hospital after them, we'll letyou know. "

They came into the house, where already the news of the boys' goinghad spread, and the "Once-Tired's, " as Wally called their guests, werewaiting to wish them luck. Then everybody faded away unobtrusively, and left them to themselves. They went into the morning-room, andNorah darned socks vigorously while the boys kept up a running fire ofcheery talk. Whatever was to come they would meet it with their headsup--all four. 

They made dinner a revel--every one dressed in their best, and"playing-up" to their utmost, while Miss de Lisle--the only person inthe house who had wept--had sent up a dinner which really left hervery little extra chance of celebrating Peace, when that most blessedday should come. Over dessert, Colonel West rose unexpectedly, andmade a little speech, proposing the health of the boys, who sat, forthe first time, with utterly miserable faces, restraining aninclination to get under the table. 

"I am sure, " said the Colonel, "that we all wish the--ah--greatest ofluck to our host's sons--ah, that is, to his son andto--ah--his--ah----"

"Encumbrance, " said Wally firmly. 

"Quite, " said the Colonel, without listening. "We know theywill--ah--make things hot for the Boche--ah--whenever they get achance. I--we--hope they will get plenty of chances: and--ah--that wewill see them--ah--back, with decorations and promotion. We will missthem--ah--very much. Speaking--ah--personally, I came here fit fornothing, and have--ah--laughed so much that I--ah--could almostbelieve myself a subaltern!"

The Tired People applauded energetically, and Mrs. West said"Quite--quite!" But there was something like tears in her eyes as shesaid it. 

The Hunts arrived after dinner, and they all woke the house withringing choruses--echoed by Allenby in his pantry, as he polished thesilver; and Garrett sang a song which was not encored becausesomething in his silver tenor made a lump come into Norah's throat;and there was no room for that, to-night, of all nights. Jack Blakesang them a stockrider's song, with a chorus in which all theAustralians joined; and Dick Harrison recited "The Geebung Polo Club, "without any elocutionary tricks, and brought down the house. Jim hadslipped out to speak to Allenby: and presently, going out, they foundthe hall cleared, and the floor waxed for dancing. They danced togramophone music, manipulated by Mr. Linton: and Norah and Mrs. Hunthad to divide each dance into three, except those with Jim and Wally, which they refused to partition, regardless of disconsolate protestsfrom the other warriors. It was eleven o'clock when Allenby announcedstolidly, "Supper is served, sir!"

"Supper?" said Mr. Linton. "How's this, Norah?"

"_I_ don't know, " said his daughter. "Ask Miss de Lisle!"

They filed in, to find a table laden and glittering; in the centre ahuge cake, bearing the greeting, "Good Luck!" with a silken Union Jackwaving proudly. Norah whispered to her father, and then ran away. She returned, presently, dragging the half-unwilling cook-lady. 

"It's against _all_ my rules!" protested the captive. 

"Rules be hanged!" said Jim cheerfully. "Just you sit there, Miss deLisle. " And the cook-lady found herself beside Colonel West, who paidher great attention, regarding her, against the evidence of his eyes, as a Tired Person whom he had not previously chanced to meet. 

"My poor, neglected babies!" said Mrs. Hunt tragically, as twelvestrokes chimed from the grandfather clock in the hall. Wally andNorah, crowned with blue and scarlet paper caps, the treasure ofcrackers, were performing a weird dance which they called, with novery good reason, a tango. It might have been anything, but itsatisfied the performers. The music stopped suddenly, and Mr. Lintonwound up the gramophone for the last time, slipping on a new record. The notes of "Auld Lang Syne, " stole out. 

They gathered round, holding hands while they sang it; singing withall their lungs and all their hearts: Norah between Jim and Wally, feeling her fingers crushed in each boyish grip. 

 _"Then here's a hand, my trusty friend, And gie's a hand o' thine. "_

Over the music her heart listened to the booming of the guns acrossthe Channel. But she set her lips and sang on. 

*****

It was morning, and they were on the station. The train came slowlyround the corner. 

"I'll look after him, Nor. " Wally's voice shook. "Don't worry toomuch, old girl. "

"And yourself, too, " she said. 

"Oh, I'll keep an eye on _him_, " said Jim. "And Dad's your job. "

"And we'll plan all sorts of things for your next leave, " said DavidLinton. "God bless you, boys. "

They gripped hands. Then Jim put his arms round Norah's shoulder. 

"You'll keep smiling, kiddie? Whatever comes?"

"Yes, I promise, Jimmy. "

The guard was shouting. 

"All aboard. "

"Cheero, Norah!" Wally cried from the window. "We'll be back in notime!"

"Cheero!" She made the word come somehow. The train roared off roundthe curve. 

CHAPTER XII

OF LABOUR AND PROMOTION

The months went by quickly enough, as David Linton and his daughtersettled down to their work at the Home for Tired People. As the placebecame more widely known they had rarely an empty room. The boys'regiment sent them many a wearied officer, too fagged in mind and bodyto enjoy his leave: the hospitals kept up a constant supply ofconvalescent and maimed patients; and there was a steady stream ofAustralians of all ranks, who came, homesick for their own land, andfound a little corner of it planted in the heart of Surrey. Gradually, as the Lintons realized the full extent of the homesicknessof the lads from overseas, Homewood became more and more Australian indetails. Pictures from every State appeared on the walls: aboriginalweapons and curiosities, woven grass mats from the natives ofQueensland, Australian books and magazines and papers--all werescattered about the house. They filled vases with blue-gum leaves andgolden wattle-blossom from the South of France: Norah even discovereda flowering boronia in a Kew nurseryman's greenhouse and carried itoff in triumph, to scent the house with the unforgettable delight ofits perfume. She never afterwards saw a boronia without recalling thebewilderment of her fellow-travellers in the railway carriage at herexquisitely-scented burden. 

"You should have seen their wondering noses, Dad!" said Norah, chuckling. 

No one, of course, stayed very long at Homewood, unless he werehopelessly unfit. From ten days to three weeks was the average stay:then, like ships that pass in the night, the "Once-Tireds, " driftedaway. But very few forgot them. Little notes came from the Fronts, in green Active Service envelopes: postcards from Mediterranean ports;letters from East and West Africa; grateful letters from wives ingarrison stations and training camps throughout the British Isles. They accumulated an extraordinary collection of photographs inuniform; and Norah had an autograph book with scrawled signatures, peculiar drawings and an occasional scrap of very bad verse. 

Major Hunt, his hand fully recovered, returned to the Front inFebruary, and his wife prepared to seek another home. But the Lintonsflatly refused to let her go. 

"We couldn't do it, " said David Linton. "Doesn't the place agree withthe babies?"

"Oh, you know it does, " said Mrs. Hunt. "But we have already kept thecottage far too long--there are other people. "

"Not for that cottage, " Norah said. 

"It really isn't fair, " protested their guest. "Douglas never dreamedof our staying: if he had not been sent out in such a hurry at thelast he would have moved us himself. "

David Linton looked at her for a moment. 

"Go and play with the babies, Norah, " he said. "I want to talk tothis obstinate person. "

"Now look, Mrs. Hunt, " he said, as Norah went off, ratherrelieved--Norah hated arguments. "You know we run this place for anideal--a dead man's ideal. _He_ wanted more than anything in theworld to help the war; we're merely carrying on for him. We can onlydo it by helping individuals. "

"But you have done that for us. Look at Douglas--strong and fit, withone hand as good as the other. Think of what he was when he camehere!"

"He may not always be fit. And if you stay here you ease his worriesby benefiting his children--and saving for their future. Then, if hehas the bad luck to be wounded again, his house is all ready for him. "

"I know, " she said. "And I would stay, but that there are others whoneed it more. "

"Well, we haven't heard of them. Look at it another way. I amgetting an old man; it worries me a good deal to think that Norah hasno woman to mother her. I used to think, " he said with a sigh, "thatit was worse for them to lose their own mother when they were weethings; now, I am not sure that Norah's loss is not just beginning. It's no small thing for her to have an influence like yours; and Norahloves you. "

Mrs. Hunt flushed. 

"Indeed, I love her, " she said. 

"Then stay and mother her. There are ever so many things you canteach her that I can't: that Miss de Lisle can't, good soul as she is. They're not things I can put into words--but you'll understand. Iknow she's clean and wholesome right through, but you can help tomould her for womanhood. Of course, she left school far too early, but there seemed no help for it. And if--if bad news comes to us fromthe Front--for any of us--we can all help each other. "

Mrs. Hunt thought deeply. 

"If you really think I can be of use I will stay, " she said. "I'm notgoing to speak of gratitude--I tried to say all that long ago. Butindeed I will do what I can. "

"That's all right: I'm very glad, " said David Linton. 

"And if you really want her taught more, " Mrs. Hunt said--"well, I wasa governess with fairly high certificates before I was married. Shecould come to me for literature and French; I was brought up in Paris. Her music, too: she really should practise, with her talent. "

"I'd like it above all things, " exclaimed Mr. Linton. "Norah'sneglected education has been worrying me badly. "

"We'll plan it out, " Mrs. Hunt said. "Now I feel much happier. "

Norah did not need much persuasion; after the first moment of dismayat the idea of renewed lessons she saw the advantages of theplan--helped by the fact that she was always a little afraid offailing to come up to Jim's standard. A fear which would considerablyhave amazed Jim, had he but guessed it! It was easy enough to fithours of study into her day. She rose early to practise, before theTired People were awake; and most mornings saw her reading with Mrs. Hunt or chattering French, while Eva sang shrilly in the kitchen, andthe babies slept in their white bunks; and Geoffrey followed Mr. Linton's heels, either on Brecon or afoot. The big Australiansquatter and the little English boy had become great friends: therewas something in the tiny lad that recalled the Jim of long ago, withhis well-knit figure and steady eyes. 

One man alone, out of all Tired People, had never left Homewood. 

For a time after his arrival Philip Hardress had gained steadily instrength and energy; then a chill had thrown him back, and for monthshe sagged downwards; never very ill, but always losing vitality. Theold depression seemed to come back to him tenfold. He could seenothing good in life: a cripple, a useless cripple. His parents weredead; save for a brother in Salonica, he was alone in the world. Hewas always courteous, always gentle; but a wall of misery seemed tocut him off from the household. 

Then the magnificent physique of the boy asserted itself, andgradually he grew stronger, and the hacking cough left him. Again itbecame possible to tempt him to try to ride. He spent hours in thekeen wintry air, jogging round the fields and lanes with Mr. Lintonand Geoffrey, returning with something of the light in his eyes thathad encouraged Norah in his first morning, long ago. 

"I believe all he wants is to get interested in something, " Norahsaid, watching him, one day, as he sat on the stone wall of theterrace, looking across the park. "He was at Oxford before he joinedthe Army, wasn't he, Dad?"

Mr. Linton assented. "His people arranged when he was little that heshould be a barrister. But he hated the idea. His own wish was to goout to Canada. "

Norah pondered. 

"Couldn't you give him a job on the farm, Dad?"

"I don't know, " said her father. "I never thought of it. I suppose Imight find him something to do; Hawkins and I will be busy enoughpresently. "

"He's beginning to worry at being here so long, " Norah said. "Ofcourse, we couldn't possibly let him go: he isn't fit for his ownsociety. I think if you could find him some work he would be morecontent. "

So David Linton, after thinking the matter over, took Hardress intohis plans for the farm which was to be the main source of supply forHomewood. He found him a quick and intelligent helper. The work wasafter the boy's own heart: he surrounded himself with agriculturalbooks and treaties on fertilizers, made a study of soils, and tooksamples of earth from different parts of the farm--to the profounddisgust of Hawkins. War had not done away with all expertagricultural science in England: Hardress sent his little packets ofsoil away, and received them back with advice as to treatment which, later on, resulted in the yield of the land being doubled--whichHawkins attributed solely to his own skill as a cultivator. But thecure was worked in Philip Hardress. The ring of hope came back intohis voice: the "shop-leg" dragged ever so little, as he walked acrossthe park daily to where the ploughs were turning the grass of the farmfields into stretches of brown, dotted with white gulls that followedthe horses' slow plodding up and down. The other guests took up agood deal of Mr. Linton's time: he was not sorry to have an overseer, since Hawkins, while honest and painstaking, was not afflicted withany undue allowance of brains. Together, in the study at night, theyplanned out the farm into little crops. Already much of the land wasready for the planting, and a model poultry-run built near the housewas stocked with birds; while a flock of sheep grazed in the park, andto the tiny herd of cows had been added half a dozen pure-bredJerseys. David Linton had taken Hardress with him on the trip to buythe stock, and both had enjoyed it thoroughly. 

Meanwhile the boys at the Front sent long and cheery letters almostdaily. Astonishment had come to them almost as soon as they rejoined, in finding themselves promoted; they gazed at their second stars inbewilderment which was scarcely lessened by the fact that theirfriends in the regiment were not at all surprised. 

"Why, didn't you have a war on your own account in Ireland?" queriedAnstruther. "You got a Boche submarine sunk and caught half the crew, didn't you?"

"Well, but that was only a lark!" said Wally. 

"You were wounded, anyhow, young Meadows. Of course _we_ know jollywell you don't deserve anything, but you can't expect the War Officeto have our intimate sources of information. " He patted Wally on theback painfully. "Just be jolly thankful you get more screw, and don'tgrumble. No one'll ever teach sense to the War Office!"

There was no lack of occupation in their part of the line. They saw agood deal of fighting, and achieved some reputation as leaders ofsmall raids: Jim, in particular, having a power of seeing and hearingat night that had been developed in long years in the Bush--but whichseemed to the Englishmen almost uncanny. There was reason to believethat the enemy felt even more strongly about it--there was seldom restfor the weary Boche in the trenches opposite Jim Linton's section. Some of his raids were authorized: others were not. It is probablethat the latter variety was more discouraging to the enemy. 

Behind the fighting line they were in fairly comfortable billets. Theofficers were hardworked: the daily programme of drill and parades washeavy, and in addition there was the task of keeping the meninterested and fit: no easy matter in the bitter cold of a NorthFrance winter. Jim proved a tower of strength to his companycommander, as he had been to his school. He organized football teams, and taught them the Australian game: he appealed to his father foraid, and in prompt response out came cases of boxing-gloves, hockeyand lacrosse sets, and footballs enough to keep every man going. Norah sent a special gift--a big case of indoor games for wet weather, with a splendid bagatelle board that made the battalion deeply enviedby less fortunate neighbours: until a German shell disobligingly burstjust above it, and reduced it to fragments. However, Norah's disgustat the news was so deep that the Tired People in residence at Homewoodat the moment conspired together, and supplied the battalion with anew board in her name; and this time it managed to escape destruction. 

The battalion had some stiff fighting towards the end of the winter, and earned a pat on the back from high quarters for its work incapturing some enemy trenches. But they lost heavily, especially inofficers. Jim's company commander was killed at his side: the boywent out at night into No-Man's Land and brought his body insingle-handed, in grim defiance of the Boche machine-guns. Jim hadliked Anstruther: it was not to be thought of that his body should bedishonoured by the touch of a Hun. Next day he had a far harder task, for Anstruther had asked him to write to his mother if he failed tocome back. Jim bit his pen for two hours over that letter, and in hisown mind stigmatized it as "a rotten effort, " after it was finished. But the woman to whom it carried whatever of comfort was left in theworld for her saw no fault in it. It was worn and frayed with readingwhen she locked it away with her dead son's letters. 

Jim found himself a company commander after that day's fighting--doingcaptain's work without captain's rank. Wally was his subaltern, anarrangement rather doubted at first by the Colonel, until he saw thatthe chums played the game strictly, and maintained in working hours adiscipline as firm as was their friendship. The men adored them: theyknew their officers shirked neither work nor play, and that they knewtheir own limitations--neither Jim nor Wally ever deluded themselveswith the idea that they knew as much as their hard-bittennon-commissioned officers. But they learned their men by heart, knowing each one's nickname and something of his private affairs;losing no opportunity of talking to them and gaining their confidence, and sizing them up, as they talked, just as in old days, as captainsof the team, they had learned to size up boys at football. "If I'vegot to go over the top I want to know what Joe Wilkins and Tiny Juddare doing behind me, " said Jim. 

They had hoped for leave before the spring offensive, but it wasimpossible: the battalion was too shorthanded, and the enemy wasendeavouring to be the four-times-armed man who "gets his fist infust. " In that early fighting it became necessary to deal with a nestof machine-guns that had got the range of their trenches to a nicety. Shells had failed to find them, and the list of casualties to theirdiscredit mounted daily higher. Jim got the chance. He shook handswith Wally--a vision of miserable disappointment--in the small hoursof a starlit night, and led a picked body of his men out of the fronttrench: making a long _detour_ and finally working nearer and nearerto the spot he had studied through his periscope for hours during theday. Then he planted his men in a shell-hole, and wriggled forwardalone. 

The men lay waiting, inwardly chafing at being left. Presently theirofficer came crawling back to them. 

"We've got 'em cold, " he whispered. "Come along--and don't fire ashot. "

It was long after daylight before the German guards in the maintrenches suspected anything wrong with that particular nest ofmachine-guns, and marvelled at its silence. For there was no one leftto tell them anything--of the fierce, silent onslaught from the rear;of men who dropped as it were from the clouds and fought with clubbedrifles, led by a boy who seemed in the starlight as tall as a youngpine-tree. The gun-crews were sleeping, and most of them never wokeagain: the guards, drowsy in the quiet stillness, heard nothing untilthat swift, wordless avalanche was upon them. 

In the British trench there was impatience and anxiety. The menwaiting to go forward, if necessary, to support the raiders, crouchedat the fire-step, muttering. Wally, sick with suspense, peeredforward beside the Colonel, who had come in person to see the resultof the raid. 

"I believe they've missed their way altogether, " muttered the Colonelangrily. "There should hove been shots long ago. It isn't likeLinton. Dawn will be here soon, and the whole lot will be scuppered. "He wheeled at a sudden commotion beyond him in the trench. "Silencethere! What's that?"

"That" was Jim Linton and his warriors, very muddy, but otherwiseundamaged. They dropped into the trench quietly, those who came firstturning to receive heavy objects from those yet on top. Last of allJim hopped down. 

"Hullo, Wal!" he whispered. "Got 'em. "

"Got 'em!" said the Colonel sternly. "What? Where have you been, sir?"

"I beg your pardon, sir--I didn't know you were there, " Jim said, rather horrified. It is not given to every subaltern to call hiscommanding officer "Wal, " when that is not his name. "I have theguns, sir. "

"You have--_what_?"

"The Boche--I mean, the enemy, machine-guns. We brought them back, sir. "

"You brought them back!" The Colonel leaned against the wall of thetrench and began to laugh helplessly. "And your men?"

"All here, sir. We brought the ammunition, too, " said Jim mildly. "It seemed a pity to waste it!"

Which things, being told in high places, brought Jim a mention indespatches, and, shortly afterwards, confirmation of his acting rank. It would be difficult to find fitting words to tell of the effect ofthis matter upon a certain grizzled gentleman and a very young ladywho, when the information reached them were studying patent manures ina morning-room in a house in Surrey. 

"He's--why, " gasped Norah incredulously--"he's actually CaptainLinton!"

"I suppose he is, " said her father. "Doesn't it sound ridiculous!"

"I don't think it's ridiculous at all, " said Norah warmly. "Hedeserved it. I think it sounds simply beautiful!"

"Do you know, " said her father, somewhat embarrassed--"I reallybelieve I agree with you!" He laughed. "Captain Linton!"

"Captain Linton!" reiterated Norah. "Our old Jimmy!" She swept thetable clear. "Oh, Daddy, bother the fertilizers for to-night--I'mgoing to write to Billabong!"

"But it isn't mail-day to-morrow, " protested her father mildly. 

"No, " said Norah. "But I'll explode if I don't tell Brownie!"

"And will the Captain be coming 'ome soon, Miss Norah?" inquiredAllenby, a little later. The household had waxed ecstatic over thenews. 

"The Captain?" Norah echoed. "Oh, how nice of you, Allenby! It doessound jolly!"

"Miss de Lisle wishes to know, miss. The news 'as induced 'er toinvent a special cake. "

"We'll have to send it to the poor Captain, I'm afraid, " said Norah, dimpling. "Dear me, I haven't told Mrs. Hunt! I must fly!" Shedropped her pen, and fled to the cottage--to find her father therebefore her. 

"I might have known you couldn't wait to tell, " said Norah, laughing. "And he pretends he isn't proud, Mrs. Hunt!"

"I've given up even pretending, " said her father, laughing. "I foundmyself shaking hands with Allenby in the most affectionate manner. Yousee, Mrs. Hunt, this sort of thing hasn't happened in the familybefore. "

"Oh, but those boys couldn't help doing well, " Mrs. Hunt said, lookingalmost as pleased as the two beaming faces before her. "They're sokeen. I don't know if I should, but shall I read you what Douglassays about them?" They gathered eagerly together over the curt wordsof praise Major Hunt had written. "Quite ordinary boys, and not a bitbrainy, " he finished. "But I wish I had a regiment full of them!"

Out in Australia, two months later, a huge old woman and a leanIrishman talked over the letter Norah had at length managed to finish. 

"And it's a Captin he is!" said Murty O'Toole, head stockman. 

"A Captain!" Brownie echoed. "Don't it seem only yesterday he wastearing about in his first little trousis, and the little mistresswatching him!"

"And riding his first pony. She put him over her head, and I med surehe was kilt. 'Howld her, will ye, Murty, ' says he, stamping hislittle fut, and blood trickling down his face. 'Give me a leg upagain, ' he says, 'till we see who's boss!' And I put him up, and offhe went down the paddock, digging his little heels into her. And he'sa Captin! Little Masther Jim!"

"I don't know why you're surprised, " said Brownie loftily. "The onlywonder to _me_ is he wasn't one six months ago!"

CHAPTER XIII

THE END OF A PERFECT DAY

"Are you ready, Norah?"

"Coming, Phil--half a minute!"

Hardress, in riding kit, looked into the kitchen, where Norah wascarrying on a feverish consultation with Miss de Lisle. 

"You'll be late, " he said warningly. "Your father and Geoffrey havegone on. "

"Will I truly?" said Norah distractedly. "Yes, Miss de Lisle, I'llwrite to the Stores about it to-night. Now, what about the fish?"

"Leave the fish to me, " said Miss de Lisle, laughing. "If I can'tmanage to worry out a fish course without you, I don't deserve to havehalf my diplomas. Run away: the house won't go to pieces in a singlehunting day. "

"Bless you!" said Norah thankfully, dragging on her gloves and castinga wild glance about the kitchen for her hunting crop. "Oh, there itis. Good-bye. You won't forget that Major Arkwright is only allowedwhite meat?"

"Oh, run away--I won't forget anything. "

"Well, he only came last night, so I thought you mightn't know, " saidthe apologetic mistress of the house. "All right, Phil--I'm trulycoming. Good-bye, Miss de Lisle!" The words floated back as sheraced off to the front door, where the horses were frettingimpatiently, held by the groom. 

They jogged down the avenue--Hardress on one of the brown cobs, Norahon Brunette, the black pony--her favourite mount. It was a perfecthunting morning: mild and still, with almost a hint of spring warmthin the air. The leafless trees bore faint signs of swellingleaf-buds. Here and there, in the grass beside the drive crocus bellspeeped out at them--purple, white and gold. 

"We'll have daffodils soon, I do believe, " Norah said. "Well, I loveAustralia, but there isn't anything in the world lovelier than yourEnglish spring!"

Ahead of them, as they turned into the road, they could see Mr. Linton, looking extraordinarily huge on Killaloe, beside Geoffrey'slittle figure on Brecon. 

"This is a great day for Geoff, " Hardress said. 

"Yes--he has been just longing to go to a meet. Of course he hasdriven a good many times, but Mrs. Hunt has been a bit nervous abouthis riding. But he's perfectly safe--and it isn't as if Brecon evergot excited. "

"No. Come along, Norah, there's a splendid stretch of grass here:let's canter!"

They had agreed upon a Christian-name footing some time before, whenit seemed that Hardress was likely to be a permanent member of thehousehold. She looked at him now, as they cantered along through thedew-wet grass at the side of the road. No one would have guessed atanything wrong with him: he was bronzed and clear-eyed, and sat aseasily in the saddle as though he had never been injured. 

"Sometimes, " said Norah suddenly, "I find myself wondering which ofyour legs is the shop one!" She flushed. "I suppose I oughtn't tomake personal remarks, but your leg does seem family property!"

"So it is, " said Hardress, grinning. "Anyhow, you couldn't make anicer personal remark than that one. So I forgive you. But it's allthanks to you people. "

"We couldn't have done anything if you hadn't been determined to geton, " Norah answered. "As soon as you made up your mind to that--well, you got on. "

"I don't know how you stood me so long, " he muttered. Then theycaught up to the riders ahead, and were received by Geoffrey with ajoyful shout. 

"You were nearly late, Norah, " said Mr. Linton. 

"I dragged her from the kitchen, sir, " Hardress said. "She and Missde Lisle were poring over food--if we get no dinner to-night it willbe our fault. "

"If _you_ had the responsibility of feeding fourteen hungry people youwouldn't make a joke of it, " said Norah. "It's very solemn, especially when the fishmonger fails you hopelessly. "

"There's always tinned salmon, " suggested her father. 

"Tinned salmon, indeed!" Norah's voice was scornful. "We haven'tcome yet to giving the Tired People dinner out of a tin. However, it's all right: Miss de Lisle will work some sort of a miracle. I'mnot going to think of housekeeping for a whole day!"

The meet was four miles away, near a marshy hollow thickly coveredwith osiers and willows. A wood fringed the marsh, and covered a hillwhich rose from a little stream beyond it. Here and there was aglimpse of the yellow flame of gorse. There were rolling fields allround, many of them ploughed: it had not yet been made compulsory forevery landowner to till a portion of his holding, but English farmerswere beginning to awake to the fact that while the German submarineflourished it would be both prudent and profitable to grow as muchfood as possible, and the plough had been busy. The gate into thefield overlooking the marsh stood open; a few riders were convergingtowards it from different points. The old days of crowded meets andbig fields of riders were gone. Only a few plucky people struggled tokeep the hounds going, and to find work for the hunters that hadescaped the first requisition of horses for France. 

The hounds came into view as Mr. Linton's party arrived. The "Master"came first, on a big, workmanlike grey; a tall woman, with aweatherbeaten face surmounted by a bowler hat. The hounds trottedmeekly after her, one or another pausing now and then to drink at awayside puddle before being rebuked for bad manners by a watchfulwhip. Mrs. Ainslie liked the Lintons; she greeted them pleasantly. 

"Nice morning, " she said. "Congratulations: I hear the boy is aCaptain. "

"We can't quite realize it, " Norah said, laughing. "You see, wehardly knew he had grown up!"

"Well, he grew to a good size, " said Mrs. Ainslie, with a smile. "Hullo, Geoff. Are you going to follow to-day?"

"They won't let me, " said Geoffrey dolefully. "I know Brecon and Icould, but Mother says we're too small. "

"Too bad!" said Mrs. Ainslie. "Never mind; you'll be big prettysoon. "

A tall old man in knickerbockers greeted her: Squire Brand, who owneda famous property a few miles away, and who had the reputation ofnever missing a meet, although he did not ride. He knew every inch ofthe country; it was said that he could boast, at the end of a season, that he had, on the whole, seen more of the runs than any one elseexcept the Master. He was a tireless runner, with an extraordinarilylong stride, which carried him over fields and ditches and gave himthe advantage of many a short cut impossible to most people. He knewevery hound by name; some said he knew every fox in the country; andhe certainly had an amazing knowledge of the direction a fox waslikely to take. Horses, on the other hand, bored him hopelessly; heconsented to drive them, in the days when motors were not, but merelyas a means of getting from place to place. A splendid car, with achauffeur much smarter than his master, had just dropped him: a grantfigure in weatherbeaten Harris tweeds, grasping a heavy stick. 

"We should get a good run to-day, " he said. 

"Yes--with luck, " Mrs. Ainslie answered. 

"Any news from the Colonel?"

"Nothing in particular--plenty of hard fighting. But he never writesmuch of that. He's much more interested in a run he had with a queerscratch pack near their billets. I can't quite gather how it wasorganized, but it comprised two beagles and a greyhound and afox-terrier and a pug. He said they had a very sporting time!"

Squire Brand chuckled. 

"I don't doubt it, " he said. "Did he say what they hunted?"

"Anything they could get, apparently. They began with a hare, andthen got on to a rabbit, in some mysterious fashion. They finished upwith a brisk run in the outskirts of a village, and got a kill--itturned out this time to be a cat!" Mrs. Ainslie's rather grimfeatures relaxed into a smile. "If any one had told Val two years agothat he would be enthusiastic over a day like that!"

A few other riders had come up: two or three officers from aneighbouring town; a couple of old men, and a sprinkling of girls. Philip Hardress was the only young man in plain clothes, and strangerswho did not suspect anything amiss with his leg looked at himcuriously. 

"Look at that dear old thing!" he whispered to Norah, indicating aprim maiden lady who had arrived on foot. "I know she's aching for achance to ask me why I'm not in khaki!" He grinned delightedly. "She's rather like the old lady who met me in the train the other day, and after looking at me sadly for a few minutes said, 'My dear youngman, do you not know that your King and Country want you?'"

"Phil! What did you say?"

"I said, 'Well, they've got one of my legs, and they don't seem tohave any use for the remnant!' I don't think she believed me, so Iinvited her to prod it!" He chuckled at his grim joke. Three monthsago he had shrunk from any mention of his injury as from the lash of awhip. 

Mrs. Ainslie never wasted time. Two minutes' grace for anylaggards--which gave time for the arrival of a stout lady on aweight-carrying cob--and then she moved on, and in a moment the houndswere among the osiers, hidden except that now and then a waving sterncaught the eye. Occasionally there was a brief whimper, and once ayoung hound gave tongue too soon, and was, presumably, rebuked by hismother, and relapsed into hunting in shamed silence. 

The osiers proved blank: they drew out, and went up the hill into thecovert, while the field moved along to be as close as possible, andthe followers on foot dodged about feverishly, hoping for luck thatwould make a fox break their way. Too often the weary lot of the footcontingent is to see nothing whatever after the hounds once entercovert, since the fox is apt to leave it as unobtrusively as possibleat the far side, and to take as short a line as he can across countryto another refuse. To follow the hounds on foot needs a stout heartand patience surpassing that of Job. 

But those on horses know little of the blighting experiences of thefoot-plodders: and when Norah went a-hunting everything ceased toexist for her except the white-and-black-and-tan hounds and the greenfields, and Brunette under her, as eager as she for the firstlong-drawn-out note from the pack. They moved restlessly back andforth along the hillside, the black pony dancing with impatience atthe faintest whimper from an unseen hound. Near them Killaloe set anexample of steadiness--but with watchful eyes and pricked ears. 

Squire Brand came up to them. 

"I'd advise you to get up near the far end of the covert, " he said. "It's almost a certainty that he'll break away there and make abee-line across to Harley Wood. I hope he will, for there's lessplough there than in the other direction. " He hurried off, and Norahpermitted Brunette to caper after him. A young officer on a big bayfollowed their example. 

"Come along, " he said to a companion. "It's a safe thing to followold Brand's lead if you want to get away well. "

Where the covert ended the hill sloped gently to undulating fields, divided by fairly stiff hedges with deep ditches, and occasionally bypost-and-rail fences, more like the jumps that Norah knew inAustralia. The going was good and sound, and there was no wire--thatterror of the hunter. Norah had always hated wire, either plain orbarbed. She held that it found its true level in being used againstGermans. 

Somewhere in a tangle of bracken an old hound spoke sharply. A littlethrill ran through her. She saw her father put his pipe in his pocketand pull his hat more firmly down on his forehead, while she held backBrunette, who was dancing wildly. Then came another note, andanother, and a long-drawn burst of music from the hounds; and suddenlyNorah saw a stealthy russet form, with brush sweeping the ground, thatstole from the covert and slid down the slope, and after him, aleaping wave of brown and white and black as hounds came bounding fromthe wood and flung themselves upon the scent, with Mrs. Ainslie closebehind. Some one shouted "Gone awa-a-y!" in a voice that went ringingin echoes round the hillside. 

Brunette bucked airily over the low fence near the covert, andKillaloe took it almost in his stride. Then they were racing side byside down the long slope, with the green turf like wet velvetunderfoot; and the next hedge seemed rushing to meet them. Over, landing lightly in the next field; before them only the "Master" andwhip, and the racing hounds, with burning eyes for the little redspeck ahead, trailing his brush. 

"By Jove, Norah!" said David Linton, "we're in for a run!"

Norah nodded. Speech was beyond her; only all her being was singingwith the utter joy of the ride. Beneath her Brunette was spurning theturf with dainty hooves; stretching out in her gallop, yet gatheringherself cleverly at her fences, with alert, pricked ears--judging herdistance, and landing with never a peck or stumble. The light weighton the pony's back was nothing to her; the delicate touch on her mouthwas all she needed to steady her at the jumps. 

Near Harley Wood the fox decided regretfully that safety layelsewhere: the enemy, running silently and surely, were too hot on histrack. He crept through a hedge, and slipped like a shadow down aditch; and hounds, jumping out, were at fault for a moment. Theslight check gave the rest of the field time to get up. 

"That's a great pony!" Norah heard the young officer say. She pattedBrunette's arching neck. 

Then a quick cast of the hounds picked up the scent, and again theywere off, but no longer with the fences to themselves; so that it wasnecessary to be watchful for the cheerful enthusiast who jumps on topof you, and the prudent sportsman who wobbles all over the field inhis gallop, seeking for a gap. Killaloe drew away again: there was nohunter in the country side to touch him. After him went Brunette, with no notion of permitting her stable companion to lose her in a runlike this. 

A tall hedge faced them, with an awkward take-off from the bank of aditch. Killaloe crashed through; Brunette came like a bird in histracks, Norah's arm across her face to ward off the loose branches. She got through with a tear in her coat, landing on stiff ploughthrough which Mrs. Ainslie's grey was struggling painfully. Brunette's light burden was all in her favour here--Norah was first tothe gate on the far side, opening it just in time for the "Master, "and thrilling with joy at that magnate's brief "Thank you!" as shepassed through and galloped away. The plough had given the hounds along lead. But ahead were only green fields, dotted by clumps oftrees: racing ground, firm and springy. The air sang in their ears. The fences seemed as nothing; the good horses took them in racingstyle, landing with no shock, and galloping on, needing no touch ofwhip or spur. 

The old dog-fox was tiring, as well he might, and yet, ahead, he knew, lay sanctuary, in an old quarry where the piled rocks hid a hole wherehe had lain before, with angry hounds snuffing helplessly around him. He braced his weary limbs for a last effort. The cruel eyes andlolling tongues were very close behind him; but his muscles weresteel, and he knew how to save every short cut that gave him so muchas a yard. He saw the quarry, just ahead, and snarled his triumph inhis untamed heart. 

Brunette's gallop was faltering a little, and Norah's heart sank. Shehad never had such a run: it was hard if she could not see it out, when they had led the field the whole way--and while yet Killaloe wasgoing like a galloping-machine in front. Then she heard a shout fromher father and saw him point ahead. "Water!" came to her. She sawthe gleam of water, fringed by reeds: saw Killaloe rise like a deer atit, taking off well on the near side, and landing with many feet tospare. 

"Oh--we can do that, " Norah thought. "Brunette likes water. "

She touched the pony with her heel for the first time, and spoke toher. Brunette responded instantly, gathering herself for the jump. Again Norah heard a shout, and was conscious of the feeling of vagueirritation that we all know when some one is trying to tell ussomething we cannot possibly hear. She took the pony at the jumpabout twenty yards from the place where Killaloe had flown it. Nearerand nearer. The water gleamed before her, very close: she felt thepony steady herself for the leap. Then the bank gave way under herheels: there was a moment's struggle and a stupendous splash. 

Norah's first thought was that the water was extremely cold; then, that the weight on her left leg was quite uncomfortable. Brunettehalf-crouched, half-lay, in the stream, too bewildered to move; thenshe sank a little more to one side and Norah had to grip her mane tokeep herself from going under the surface. It seemed an unpleasantlylong time before she saw her father's face. 

"Norah--are you hurt?"

"No, I'm not hurt, " she said. "But I can't get my leg out--andBrunette seems to think she wants to stay here. I suppose she findsthe mud nice and soft. " She tried to smile at his anxious face, butfound it not altogether easy. 

"We'll get you out, " said David Linton. He tugged at the pony'sbridle; and Mrs. Ainslie, arriving presently, came to his assistance, while some of the other riders, coming up behind, encouraged Brunettewith shouts and hunting-crops. Thus urged, Brunette decided that somefurther effort was necessary, and made one, with a mighty flounder, while Norah rolled off into the water. Half a dozen hands helped herat the bank. 

"You're sure you're not hurt?" her father asked anxiously. "I washorribly afraid she'd roll on your leg when she moved. "

"I'm quite all right--only disgustingly wet, " said Norah. "Oh, and Imissed the finish--did you ever know such bad luck?"

"Well, you only missed the last fifty yards, " said Mrs. Ainslie, pointing to the quarry, from which the whips were dislodging theaggrieved hounds. "We finished there; and that old fox is good foranother day yet. I'd give you the brush, if he hadn't decided to keepit himself. "

"Oh!" said Norah, blushing, while her teeth chattered. "Wasn't it abeautiful run!"

"It was--but something has got to be done with you, " said Mrs. Ainsliefirmly. "There's a farmhouse over there, Mr. Linton: I know thepeople, and they'll do anything they can for you. Hurry her over andget her wet things off--Mrs. Hardy will lend her some clothes. " AndNorah made a draggled and inglorious exit. 

Mrs. Hardy received her with horrified exclamations and offers of allthat she had in the house: so that presently Norah found herselfdrinking cup after cup of very hot tea and eating buttered toast withher father--attired in a plaid blouse of green and red in largechecks, and a black velvet skirt that had seen better days; withcarpet slippers lending a neat finish to a somewhat strikingappearance. Without, farm hands rubbed down Killaloe and Brunette inthe stable. Mrs. Hardy fluttered in and out, bringing more and yetmore toast, until her guests protested vehemently that exhaustednature forbade them to eat another crumb. 

"And wot is toast?" grumbled Mrs. Hardy, "and you ridin' all day inthe cold!" She had been grievously disappointed at her visitors'refusing bacon and eggs. "The young lady'll catch 'er death, sure'sfate! Just another cup, miss. Lor, who's that comin' in at thegate!"

"That" proved to be Squire Brand, who had appeared at the scene ofNorah's disaster just after her retreat--being accused by Mrs. Ainslieof employing an aeroplane. 

"I came to see if I could be of any use, " he said. His eye fell onNorah in Mrs. Hardy's clothes, and he said, "Dear me!" suddenly, andfor a moment lost the thread of his remarks. "You can't let her ridehome, Linton--my car is here, and if your daughter will let me driveher home I'm sure Mr. Hardy will house her pony until to-morrow--youcan send a groom over for it. I've a spare coat in the car. Yes, thank you, Mrs. Hardy, I should like a cup of tea very much. "

Now that the excitement of the day was over, Norah was beginning tofeel tired enough to be glad to escape the long ride home on a jadedhorse. So, with Mrs. Hardy's raiment hidden beneath a gorgeous furcoat, she was presently in the Squire's car, slipping through the duskof the lonely country lanes. The Squire liked Jim, and askedquestions about him: and to talk of Jim was always the nearest way toNorah's heart. She had exhausted his present, and was as far back inhis past as his triumphs in inter-State cricket, when they turned inat the Homewood avenue. 

"I'm afraid I've talked an awful lot, " she said, blushing. "You see, Jim and I are tremendous chums. I often think how lucky I was to havea brother like him, as I had only one!"

"Possibly Jim thinks the same about his sister, " said the old man. Helooked at her kindly; there was something very child-like in the smallface, half-lost in the great fur collar of his coat. 

"At all events, Jim has a good champion, " he said. 

"Oh, Jim doesn't need a champion, " Norah answered. "Every one likeshim, I think. And of course we think there's no one like him. "

The motor stopped, and the Squire helped her out. It was too late tocome in, he said; he bade her good night, and went back to the car. 

Norah looked in the glass in the hall, and decided that her appearancewas too striking to be kept to herself. A very battered feltriding-hat surmounted Mrs. Hardy's finery; it bore numerousmud-splashes, some of which had extended to her face. No one was inthe hall; it was late, and presumably the Tired People were dressingfor dinner. She headed for the kitchen, meeting, on the way, Allenby, who uttered a choking sound and dived into his pantry. Norahchuckled, and passed on. 

Miss de Lisle sat near the range, knitting her ever-present muffler. She looked up, and caught her breath at the apparition that dancedin--Norah, more like a well-dressed scarecrow than anything else, withher grey eyes bright among the mud-splashes. She held up Mrs. Hardy'svelvet skirt in each hand, and danced solemnly up the long kitchen, pointing each foot daintily, in the gaudy carpet slippers. 

"Oh my goodness!" ejaculated Miss de Lisle--and broke into helplesslaughter. 

Norah sat down by the fender and told the story of her day--with acheerful interlude when Katty came in hurriedly, failed to see heruntil close upon her, and then collapsed. Miss de Lisle listened, twinkling. 

"Well, you must go and dress, " she said at length. "It would be onlykind to every one if you came down to dinner like that, but I supposeit wouldn't do. "

"It wouldn't be dignified, " said Norah, looking, at the moment, asthough dignity were the last thing she cared about. "Well, I supposeI must go. " She gathered up her skirts and danced out again, pausingat the door to execute a high kick. Then she curtsied demurely to thelaughing cook-lady, and fled to her room by a back staircase. 

She came down a while later, tubbed and refreshed, in a dainty bluefrock, with a black ribbon in her shining curls. The laughter had notyet died out of her eyes; she was humming one of Jim's school songs asshe crossed the hall. Allenby was just turning from the door. 

"A telegram, Miss Norah. "

"Thanks, Allenby. " She took it, still smiling. "I hope it isn't tosay any one is coming to-night, " she said, as she carried it to thelight. "Wouldn't it be lovely if it was to tell us they had leave!"There was no need to specify whom "they" meant. "But I'm afraidthat's too much to hope, just yet. " She tore open the envelope. 

There was a long silence as she stood there with the paper in herhand: a silence that grew gradually more terrible, while her faceturned white. Over and over she read the scrawled words, as if in thevain hope that the thing they told might yet prove only a hideousdream from which, presently, she might wake. Then, as if very faraway, she heard the butler's shaking voice. 

"Miss Norah! Is it bad news?"

"You can send the boy away, " she heard herself say, as though it weresome other person speaking. "There isn't any answer. He has beenkilled. "

"Not Mr. Jim?" Allenby's voice was a wail. 

"Yes. "

She turned from him and walked into the morning-room, shutting thedoor. In the grate a fire was burning; the leaping light fell onJim's photograph, standing on a table near. She stared at it, stillholding the telegram. Surely it was a dream--she had so often had itbefore. Surely she would soon wake, and laugh at herself. 

The door was flung open, and her father came in, ruddy and splashed. She remembered afterwards the shape of a mud-splash on his sleeve. Itseemed to be curiously important. 

"Norah!--what is wrong?"

She put out her hands to him then, shaking. Jim had said it was herjob to look after him, but she could not help him now. And no wordswould come. 

"Is it Jim?" At the agony of his voice she gave a little choking cry, catching at him blindly. The telegram fluttered to the floor, andDavid Linton picked it up and read it. He laid the paper on the tableand turned to her, holding out his hands silently, and she came to himand put her face on his breast, trembling. His arm tightened roundher. So they stood, while the time dragged on. 

He put her into a chair at last, and they looked at each other: theyhad said no word since that first moment. 

"Well, " said David Linton slowly, "we knew it might come. And we knowthat he died like a man, and that he never shirked. Thank God we hadhim, Norah. And thank God my son died a soldier, not a slacker. "

CHAPTER XIV

CARRYING ON

After that first terrible evening, during which no one had looked upontheir agony, David Linton and his child took up their life again andtried to splice the broken ends as best they might. Their guests, whocame down to breakfast nervously, preparing to go away at once, foundthem in the dining-room, haggard and worn, but pleasantly courteous;they talked of the morning's news, of the frost that seemedcommencing, of the bulbs that were sending delicate spear-heads upthrough the grass or the bare flower-beds. There were arrangementsfor the day to be made for those who cared to ride or drive: thetrains to be planned for a gunner subaltern whose leave was expiringnext day. Everything was quite as usual, outwardly. 

"Pretty ghastly meal, what?" remarked the young gunner to a chum, asthey went out on the terrace. "Rather like dancing at a funeral. "

Philip Hardress came into the morning-room, where Mr. Linton and Norahwere talking. 

"I don't need to tell you how horribly sorry I am, " he faltered. 

"No--thanks, Phil. "

"You--you haven't any details?"

"No. "

"Wally will write as soon as he can, " Norah added. 

"Yes, of course. The others want me to say, sir, of course they willgo away. They all understand. I can go too, just to the hotel. Ican supervise Hawkins from there. "

"I hope none of you will think of doing any such thing, " David Lintonsaid. "Our work here is just the same. Jim would never have wishedus not to carry on. "

"But----" Hardress began. 

"There isn't any 'but. ' Norah and I are not going to sit mourning, with our hands in front of us. We mean to work a bit harder, that'sall. You see"--the ghost of a smile flickered across the face thathad aged ten years in a night--"more than ever now, whatever we do fora soldier is done for Jim. "

Hardress made a curious little gesture of protest. 

"And I'm left--half of me!"

"You have got to help us, Phil, " Norah said. "We need you badly. "

"I can't do much, " he said. "But as long as you want me, I'm here. Then I'm to tell the others, sir----"

"Tell them we hope they will help us to carry on as usual, " said DavidLinton. "I'll come across with you presently, Phil, to look at thenew cultivator: I hear it arrived last night. "

He looked at Norah as the door closed. 

"You're sure it isn't too much for you, my girl? I will send themaway if you would rather we were by ourselves for a while. "

"I promised Jim that whatever happened we'd keep smiling, " Norah said. "He wouldn't want us to make a fuss. Jim always did so hate fusses, didn't he, Dad?"

She was quite calm. Even when Mrs. Hunt came hurrying over, and puther kind arms about her, Norah had no tears. 

"I suppose we haven't realized it, " she said. "Perhaps we're tryingnot to. I don't want to think of Jim as dead--he was so splendidlyalive, ever since he was a tiny chap. "

"Try to think of him as near you, " Mrs. Hunt whispered. 

"Oh, he is. I know Jim never would go far from us, if he could helpit. I know he's watching, somewhere, and he will be glad if we keepour heads up and go straight on. He would trust us to do that. " Herface changed. "Oh, Mrs. Hunt, --but it's hard on Dad!"

"He has you still. "

"I'm only a girl, " said Norah. "No girl could make up for a son: andsuch a son as Jim. But I'll try. "

There came racing little feet in the hall, and Geoffrey burst in. 

"It isn't true!" he shouted. "Say it isn't true, Norah! Allenby saysthe Germans have killed Jim--I know they couldn't. " He tugged at herwoollen coat. "Say it's a lie, Norah--Jim couldn't be dead!"

"Geoff--Geoff, dear!" Mrs. Hunt tried to draw him away. 

"Don't!" Norah said. She put her arms round the little boy--andsuddenly her head went down on his shoulder. The tears came at last. Mrs. Hunt went softly from the room. 

There were plenty of tears in the household: The servants had allloved the big cheery lad, with the pleasant word for each one. Theywent about their work red-eyed, and Allenby chafed openly at the agethat kept him at home, doing a woman's work, while boys went out togive their lives, laughing, for Empire. 

"It ain't fair, " he said to Miss de Lisle, who sobbed into the mufflershe was knitting. "It ain't fair. Kids, they are--no more. Theyain't meant to die. Oh, if I could only get at that there Kayser!"

Then, after a week of waiting, came Wally's letter. 

*****

"Norah, Dear, --

"I don't know how to write to you. I can't bear to think aboutyou and your father. It seems it must be only a bad dream--and allthe time I know it isn't, even though I keep thinking I hear hiswhistle--the one he used for me. 

"I had better tell you about it. 

"We had orders to attack early one morning. Jim was awfully keen; hehad everything ready, and he had been talking to the men until theywere all as bucked up as they could be. You know, he was often prettygrave about his work, but I don't think I ever saw him look so happyas he did that morning. He looked just like a kid. He told me hefelt as if he were going out on a good horse at Billabong. We werelooking over our revolvers, and he said, 'That's the only thing thatfeels wrong; it ought to be a stock whip!'

"We hadn't much artillery support. Our guns were short of shells, asusual. But we took the first trench, and the next. Jim was justeverywhere. He was always first; the men would have followed him downa precipice. He was laughing all the time. 

"We didn't get much time before they counter-attacked. They came onin waves--as if there were millions of them, and we had a pretty stifffight in the trench. It was fairly well smashed about. I was prettybusy about fifty yards away, but I saw Jim up on a broken traverse, using his revolver just as calmly as if he were practising in camp, and cheering on the men. He gave me a 'Coo-ee!'

"And then--oh, I don't know how to tell you. Just as I was looking athim a shell burst near him: and when the smoke blew over there wasnothing--traverse and trench and all, it was just wiped out. Icouldn't get near him--the Boches were pouring over in fresh masses, and we got the signal to retire--and I was the only one left to getthe men back. 

"He couldn't have felt anything; that's the only thing. 

"I wish it had been me. I'm nobody's dog, and he was just everythingto you two--and the best friend a fellow ever had. It would have beenso much more reasonable if it had been me. I just feel that I hatemyself for being alive. I would have saved him for you if I could, Norah, "Wally. "

*****

There were letters, too, from Jim's Colonel, and from Major Hunt, andGarrett, and every other brother-officer whom Jim had sent toHomewood; and others that Norah and her father valued almost morehighly--from men who had served under him. Letters that made him glowwith pride--almost forgetting grief as they read them. It seemed soimpossible to think that Jim would never come again. 

"I can't feel as though he were dead, " Norah said, looking up at herfather. "I know I've got to get used to knowing he has gone away fromus for always. But I like to think of him as having only changedwork. Jim never could be idle in Heaven; he always used to say itseemed such a queer idea to sit all day in a white robe and play aharp. Jim's Heaven would have to be a very busy one, and I know he'sgone there, Dad. "

David Linton got up and went to the bookcase. He came back with_Westward Ho!_ in his hand. 

"I was reading Kingsley's idea of it last night, " he said. "I thinkit helps, Norah. Listen. 'The best reward for having wrought wellalready, is to have more to do; and he that has been faithful over afew things, must find his account in being made ruler over manythings. That is the true and heroical rest, which only is worthy ofgentlemen and sons of God. ' Jim was only a boy, but he went straightand did his best all his life. I think he has just been promoted tosome bigger job. "

So they held their heads high, as befitted people with just cause forbeing proud, and set themselves to find the rest that comes from hardwork. There was plenty to do, for the house was always full of TiredPeople. Not that the Lintons ever tried to entertain their guests. Tired People came to a big, quiet house, where everything ransmoothly, and all that was possible was done for comfort. Beyondthat, they did exactly as they chose. There were horses and the motorfor those who cared to ride and drive; the links for golfers; walkswith beautiful scenery for energetic folk, and dainty rooms with bigeasy-chairs, or restful lounges under the trees on the lawn, for thosewho asked from Fate nothing better than to be lazy. No one wasexpected to make conversation or to behave as an ordinary guest. Everywhere there was a pleasant feeling of homeliness and welcome; shymen became suddenly at their ease; nerve-racked men, strained withlong months of the noise and horror of war, relaxed in the peace ofHomewood, and went back to duty with a light step and a clear eye. Only there was missing the wild merriment of the first few weeks, whenJim and Wally dashed in and out perpetually and kept the house in asimmer of uncertainty and laughter. That could never come again. 

But beyond the immediate needs of the Tired People there was much toplan and carry out. Conscription in England was an established fact;already there were few fit men to be seen out of uniform. DavidLinton looked forward to a time when shortage of labour, coupled withthe deadly work of the German submarines, should mean a shortage offood; and he and Norah set themselves to provide against that time ofscarcity. Miss de Lisle and Philip Hardress entered into every plan, lending the help of brains as well as hands. The farm was put underintensive culture, and the first provision made for the future wasthat of fertilizers, which, since most of them came from abroad, werecertain to be scarce. Mr. Linton and Hardress breathed more freelywhen they had stored a two years' supply. The flock of sheep wasincreased; the fowl-run doubled in size, and put in charge of adisabled soldier, a one-armed Australian, whom Hardress found inLondon, ill and miserable, and added to the list of Homewood'spatients--and cures. Young heifers were bought, and "boarded-out" atneighbouring farms; a populous community of grunting pigs occupied alittle field. And in the house Norah and Miss de Lisle worked throughthe spring and summer, until the dry and spacious cellars andstorerooms showed row upon row of shelves covered with everything thatcould be preserved or salted or pickled, from eggs to runner beans. 

Sometimes the Tired People lent a hand, becoming interested in theirhosts' schemes. Norah formed a fast friendship with a cheerfulsubaltern in the Irish Guards, who was with them for a wet fortnight, much of which he spent in the kitchen stoning fruit, making jam, andacting as bottler-in-chief to the finished product. There were manywho asked nothing better than to work on the farm, digging, plantingor harvesting: indeed, in the summer, one crop would have been ruinedaltogether by a fierce storm, but for the Tired People, who, from anelderly Colonel to an Australian signaller, flung themselves upon it, and helped to finish getting it under cover--carrying the last sheaveshome just as the rain came down in torrents, and returning to Homewoodin a soaked but triumphant procession. Indeed, nearly all theunending stream of guests came under the spell of the place; so thatNorah used to receive anxious inquiries from various corners of theearth afterwards--from Egypt or Salonica would come demands as to thesuccess of a catch-crop which the writer had helped to sow, or of abrood of Buff Orpingtons which he had watched hatching out in theincubator: even from German East Africa came a letter asking after aspecial litter of pigs! Perhaps it was that every one knew that theLintons were shouldering a burden bravely, and tried to help. 

They kept Jim very close to them. A stranger, hearing the name sooften on their lips, might have thought that he was still with them. Together, they talked of him always; not sadly, but remembering thelong, happy years that now meant a memory too dear ever to let go. Jim had once asked Norah for a promise. "If I go West, " he said, "don't wear any horrible black frocks. " So she went about in herordinary dresses, especially the blue frocks he had loved--with just anarrow black band on her arm. There were fresh flowers under hispicture every day, but she did not put them sadly. She would smile atthe frank happy face as she arranged leaves and blossoms with a lovinghand. 

Later on, David Linton fitted up a carpenter's bench and a workshop;the days were too full for much thinking, but he found the eveningslong. He enlisted Hardress in his old work of splint-making, and thenfound that half his guests used to stray out to the lit workshop afterdinner and beg for jobs, so that before long the nearest HospitalSupply Depot could count on a steady output of work from Homewood. Mrs. Hunt and Norah used to come as polishers; Miss de Lisle suddenlydiscovered that her soul for cooking included a corner for carpentry, and became extraordinarily skilful in the use of chisel and plane. When the autumn days brought a chill into the air, Mr. Linton put astove into the workshop; and it became a kind of club, where the wholehousehold might often be found; they extended their activities to themanufacture of crutches, bed-rests, bed-tables, and half a dozen otheraids to comfort for broken men. No work had helped David Linton somuch. 

In the early summer Wally came back on leave: a changed Wally, withgrim lines where there had once been only merry ones in his lean, brown face. He did not want to come to Homewood; only when begged tocome did he master the pitiful shrinking he felt from meeting them. 

"I didn't know how to face you, " he said. Norah had gone to meet him, and they were walking back from the station. 

"Don't, Wally; you hurt, " she said. 

"It's true, though; I didn't. I feel as if you must hate me forcoming back--alone. "

"Hate you!--and you were Jim's chum!"

"I always came as Jim's chum, " Wally said heavily. "From the veryfirst, when I was a lonely little nipper at school, I sort of belongedto Jim. And now--well, I just can't realize it, Norah. I can't keepon thinking about him as dead. I know he is, and one minute I'mfeeling half-insane about it, and the next I forget, and think I hearhim whistling or calling me. " He clenched his hands. "It's theminute after that that is the worst of all, " he said. 

For a time they did not speak. They walked on slowly, along thepleasant country lane with its blossoming hedges. 

"I know, " Norah said. "There's not much to choose between you and Dadand me, when it comes to missing Jim. But as for you--well you didcome as Jim's chum first--and always; but you came just as muchbecause you were yourself. You know you belonged to Billabong, as weall did. You can't cut yourself off from us now, Wally. "

"I?" he echoed. "Well, if I do, I have mighty little left. But Ifelt that you couldn't want to see me. I know what it must be like tosee me come back without him. "

"I'm not going to say it doesn't hurt, " said Norah. "Only it hurtsyou as much as it does us. And the thing that would be ever so muchworse is for you not to come. Why, you're the only comfort we haveleft. Don't you see, you're like a bit of Jim coming back to us?"

"Oh, Norah--Norah!" he said. "If I could only have saved him!"

"Don't we know you'd have died quite happily if you could!" Norahsaid. "Just as happily as he would have died for you. "

"He did, you know, " Wally said. All the youth and joy had gone out ofhis voice, leaving it flat and toneless. "Two or three times thatmorning he kept me out of a specially hot spot, and took it himself. He was always doing it: we nearly punched each other's heads about itthe day before--I told him he was using his rank unfairly. He justgrinned and said subalterns couldn't understand necessary strategy inthe field!"

"He would!" said Norah, laughing. 

Wally stared at her. 

"I didn't think I'd ever see you laugh again!"

"Not laugh!" Norah echoed. "Why, it wouldn't be fair to Jim if wedidn't. We keep him as near us as we can--talk about him, and aboutall the old, happy times. We did have such awfully good timestogether, didn't we? We're never going to get far away from him. "

The boy gave a great sigh. 

"I've been getting a long way from everything, " he said. "Since--since it happened I couldn't let myself think: it was just asif I were going mad. The only thing I've wanted to do was to fight, and I've had that. "

"He looks as if his mind were more tired than his body, " David Lintonsaid that evening. "One can see that he has just been torturinghimself with all sorts of useless thoughts. You'll have to take himin hand, Norah. Put the other work aside for a while and go out withhim--ride as much as you can. It won't do you any harm, either. "

"We never thought old Wally would be one of the Tired People, " Norahsaid musingly. 

"No, indeed. And I think there has been no one more utterly tired. It won't do, Norah: the boy will be ill if we don't look after him. "

"We've just got to make him feel how much we want him, " Norah said. 

"Yes. And we have to teach him to think happily about Jim--not tofight it all the time. Fighting won't make it any better, " said DavidLinton, with a sigh. 

But there was no riding for Wally, for a while. The next day foundhim too ill to get up, and the doctor, sent for hastily, talked ofshock and over-strain, and ordered bed until his temperature should bepleased to go down: which was not for many a weary day. Possibly itwas the best thing that could have happened to Wally. He grew, if notreconciled, at least accustomed to his loss; grew, too, to thinkinghimself a coward when he saw the daily struggle waged by the twopeople he loved best. And Norah was wise enough to call in othernurses: chief of them the Hunt babies, Alison and Michael, who rolledon his bed and played with him, while Geoffrey sat as close to him aspossible, and could hardly be lured from the room. It was not forweeks after his return that they heard Wally laugh; and then it was atsome ridiculous speech of Michael's that he suddenly broke into theghost of his old mirth. 

Norah's heart gave a leap. 

"Oh, he's better!" she thought. "You blessed little Michael!"

And so, healing came to the boy's bruised soul. Not that the old, light-hearted Wally came back: but he learned to talk of Jim, and nolonger to hug his sorrow in silence. Something became his of thepeace that had fallen upon Norah and her father. It was all theycould hope for, to begin with. 

They said good-bye to him before they considered him well enough to goback to the trenches. But the call for men was insistent, and the boyhimself was eager to go. 

"Come back to us soon, " Norah said, wistfully. 

"Oh, I'm safe to come back, " Wally said. "I'm nobody's dog, youknow. "

"That's not fair!" she flashed. "Say you're sorry for saying it!"

He flushed. 

"I'm sorry if I hurt you, Nor. I suppose I was a brute to say that. "Something of his old quaint fun came into his eyes for a moment. "Anyhow it's something to be somebody's dog--especially if one happensto belong to Billabong-in-Surrey!"

CHAPTER XV

PRISONERS AND CAPTIVES

The church was half in ruins. Great portions of the roof had beentorn away by shell-fire, and there were gaping holes in the wallsthrough which could be caught glimpses of sentries going backwards andforwards. Sometimes a grey battalion swung by; sometimes a Germanofficer peered in curiously, with a sneer on his lips. The drone ofaircraft came from above, through the holes where the rafters showedblack against the sky. Ever the guns boomed savagely from beyond. 

There were no longer any seats in the church. They had all beenbroken up for camp-fires--even the oaken pulpit had gone. The greatempty space had been roughly cleared of fallen masonry, which had beenflung in heaps against the wall; on the stone floor filthy straw wasthinly spread. On the straw lay row upon row of wounded men--veryquiet for the most part; they had found that it did not pay to makenoise enough to annoy the guards who smoked and played cards in acorner. 

The long day--how long only the men on the straw knew--was drawing toa close. The sun sank behind the western window, which the guns hadspared; and the stained glass turned to a glory of scarlet and goldand blue. The shafts of colour lay across the broken altar, whenceeverything had been stripped; they bathed the shattered walls in abeauty that was like a cloak over the nakedness of their ruin. Slowlythey crept over the floor, as the sun sank lower, touching the strawwith rosy fingers, falling gently on broken bodies and pain-drawnfaces; and weary eyes looked gratefully up to the window where afigure of Christ with a child in His arms stood glorious in the light, and blessed them with the infinite pity of His smile. 

A little Cockney lad with a dirty bandage round his head, who hadtossed in pain all day on the chancel steps, turned to the window togreet the daily miracle of the sunset. 

"Worf waiting for, all the day, that is!" he muttered. Therestlessness left him, and his eyes closed, presently, in sleep. 

Slowly the glory died away, and as it passed a little figure in arusty black cassock came in, making his way among the men on thestraw. It was the French priest, who had refused to leave his brokenchurch: a little, fat man, not in the least like a hero, but with asknightly a soul as was ever found in armour and with lance in rest. He passed from man to man, speaking in quaint English, occasionallydropping gladly into French when he found some one able to answer himin his own language. He had nothing to give them but water; but thathe carried tirelessly many times a day. His little store of bandagesand ointment had gone long ago, but he bathed wounds, helped crampedmen to change their position, and did the best he could to make theevil straw into the semblance of a comfortable bed. To the helplessmen on the floor of the church his coming meant something akin toParadise. 

He paused near a little Irishman with a broken leg, a man of theDublin Fusiliers, whose pain had not been able to destroy his goodtemper. 

"How are you to-night, _mon garcon?_"

"Yerra, not too bad, Father, " said the Irishman. "If I could havejust a taste of water, now?" He drank deeply as the priest lifted hishead, and sank back with a word of thanks. 

"This feather pillow of mine is apt to slip if I don't watch it, " hesaid, wriggling the back of his head against the cold stone of thefloor, from which the straw had worked away. "I dunno could yougather it up a bit, Father. " He grinned. "I'd ask you to put meboots under me for a pillow, but if them thieving guards found themloose, they'd shweep them from me. "

"Ss-h, my son!" the priest whispered warningly. He shook up a handfulof straw and made it as firm as he could under the man's head. "It isnot prudent to speak so loud. Remember you cannot see who may bebehind you. "

"Indeed and I cannot, " returned Denny Callaghan. "I'll remember, Father. That's great!" He settled his head thankfully on the strawpillow. "I'll sleep aisier to-night for that. "

"And _Monsieur le Capitaine_--has he moved yet?" The priest glancedat a motionless form near them. 

"Well, indeed he did, Father, this afternoon. He gev a turn, an' hesaid something like 'Tired People. ' I thought there was great sensein that, if he was talkin' to us, so I was cheered up about him--butnot a word have I got out of him since. But it's something that hespoke at all. "

The _cure_ bent over the quiet figure. Two dark eyes opened, as ifwith difficulty, and met his. 

"Norah, " said Jim Linton. "Are you there, Norah?"

"I am a friend, my son, " said the _cure_. "Are you in pain?"

The dark eyes looked at him uncomprehendingly. Then he murmured, "Water!"

"It is here. " The little priest held the heavy head, and Jim managedto drink a little. Something like a shadow of a smile came into hiseyes as the priest wiped his lips. Then they closed again. 

"If they would send us a doctor!" muttered the _cure_, in his ownlanguage, longingly. "_Ma joi_, what a lad!" He looked down inadmiration at the splendid helpless body. 

"He won't die, Father, will he?"

"I do not know, my son. I can find no wound, except the one on hishead--nothing seems broken. Perhaps he will be better to-morrow. " Hegave the little Irishman his blessing and moved away. There were manyeager eyes awaiting him. 

Jim was restless during the night; Denny Callaghan, himself unable tosleep, watched him muttering and trying to turn, but unable to move. 

"I doubt but his back's broken, " said the little man ruefully. "Yerra, what a pity!" He tried to soothe the boy with kind words; andtowards the dawn Jim slept heavily. 

He woke when the sun was shining upon him through a rift in the wall. The church was full of smothered sounds--stifled groans from helplessmen, stiffened by lying still, and trying to move. Jim managed toraise himself a little, at which Denny Callaghan gave an exclamationof relief. 

"Hurroo! Are you better, sir?"

"Where am I?" Jim asked thickly. 

"'Tis in a church you are, sir, though it's not much like it, " saidthe little man. "The Germans call it a hospital. 'Tis all I wishthey may have the like themselves, and they wounded. Are you better, sir?"

"I . . . Think I'm all right, " Jim said. He was trying to regain hisscattered faculties. "So they've got me!" He tried to look atCallaghan. "What's your regiment?"

"The Dubs, sir. 'Tis hard luck; I kem back wounded from Suvla Bay andthey sent me out to the battalion here; and I'd not been with them aweek before I got landed again. Now 'tis a German prison ahead--andby all one hears they're not rest-camps. "

"No, " said Jim. He tried to move, but failed, sinking back with astifled groan. "I wish I knew if I was damaged much. Are there anydoctors here?"

"There was two, a while back. They fixed us up somehow, and wehaven't seen a hair of them since. The guards throw rations--of asort--at us twice a day. 'Tis badly off we'd be, if it weren't forthe priest. "

"Is he French?"

"He is--and a saint, if there ever was one. There he comes now. "Callaghan crossed himself reverently. 

A hush had come over the church. The _cure_, in his vestments, hadentered, going slowly to the altar. 

Jim struggled up on his elbow. There was perfect silence in thechurch; men who had been talking ceased suddenly, men who moaned intheir pain bit back their cries. So they lay while the little priestcelebrated Mass, as he had done every morning since the Germans sweptover his village: at first alone, and, since the first few days to asilent congregation of helpless men. They were of all creeds and someof no creed at all: but they prayed after him as men learn to praywhen they are at grips with things too big for them. He blessed them, at the end, with uplifted hand; and dim eyes followed him as he wentslowly from the church. 

He was back among them, presently, in the rusty black cassock. Theguards had brought in the men's breakfast--great cans of soup andloaves of hard, dark bread. They put them down near the door, tramping out with complete disregard of the helpless prisoners. Thepriest would see to them, aided by the few prisoners who could moveabout, wounded though they were. In any case the guard had no orderto feed prisoners; they were not nurse-maids, they said. 

"Ah, my son! You are awake!"

Jim smiled up at the _cure_. 

"Have I been asleep long, sir?"

"Three days. They brought you in last Friday night. Do you notremember?"

"No, " said Jim. "I don't remember coming here. " He drank some soupeagerly, but shook his head at the horrible bread. The food clearedhis head, and when the little _cure_ had gone away, promising toreturn as soon as possible, he lay quietly piecing matters together inhis mind. Callaghan helped him: the Dublins had been in the line nexthis own regiment when they had gone "over the top" on that lastmorning. 

"Oh, I remember all that well enough, " Jim said. "We took two linesof trench, and then they came at us like a wall; the ground was greywith them. And I was up on a smashed traverse, trying to keep the mentogether, when it went up too. "

"A shell was it?"

Jim shook his head. 

"A shell did burst near us, but it wasn't that. No, the trench wasmined, and the mine went off a shade too late. They delayed, somehow;it should have gone off if we took the trench, before theycounter-attacked. As it was, it must have killed as many of their menas ours. They told me about it afterwards. "

"Afterwards?" said Callaghan, curiously. He looked at Jim, a littledoubtful as to whether he really knew what he was talking about. "Did ye not come straight here then, sir?"

"I did not; I was buried, " said Jim grimly. "The old mine went upright under me, and I went up too. I came down with what seemed liketons of earth on top of me; I was covered right in, I tell you, only Imanaged to get some of the earth away in front of my nose and mouth. I was lying on my side, near the edge of a big heap of dirt, with myhands near my face. If I'd been six inches further back therewouldn't have been the ghost of a chance for me. I got some of theearth and mud away, and found I could breathe, just as I was choking. But I was buried for all that. All our chaps were fighting on top ofme!"

"D'ye tell me!" gasped Callaghan incredulously. 

"I could feel the boots, " Jim said. "I'm bruised with them yet. Whattime did we go over that morning?--nine o'clock, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir. "

"Well, it was twelve or one o'clock when they dug me out. Theyre-took the trench, and started to dig themselves in, and they foundme; I've a spade-cut on my hand. My Aunt, that was a long threehours!"

"Did they treat you decent, sir?"

"They weren't too bad, " Jim said. "I couldn't move; I suppose it wasthe weight on me, and the bruising--at least, I hope so. They felt meall over--there was a rather decent lieutenant there, who gave me somebrandy. He told me he didn't think there was anything broken. But Icouldn't stir, and it hurt like fury when they touched me. "

"And how long were you there, sir?"

"They had to keep me until night--there was no way of sending backprisoners. So I lay on a mud-heap, and the officer-boy talked tome--he had been to school in England. "

"That's where they larned him any decency he had, " said Callaghan. 

"It might be. But he wasn't a bad sort. He looked after me wellenough. Then, after nightfall, they sent a stretcher party over withme. The German boy shook hands with me when we were starting, andsaid he was afraid he wouldn't see me again, as we were pretty sure tobe shelled by the British. "

"And were you, sir?"

"Rather. The first thing I knew was a bit of shrapnel through thesleeve of my coat; I looked for the hole this morning, to see if I wasremembering rightly, and sure enough, here it is. " He held up hisarm, and showed a jagged tear in his tunic. "But that's where I stopremembering anything. I suppose I must have caught something elsethen. Why is my head tied up? It was all right when they began tocarry me over. "

"Ye have a lump the size of an egg low down on the back of your head, sir, " said Callaghan. "And a nasty little cut near your temple. "

"H'm!" said Jim. "I wondered why it ached! Well I must have gotthose from our side on the way across. I hope they got a Boche or twoas well. "

"I dunno, " Callaghan said. "The fellas that dumped you down saidsomething in their own haythin tongue. I didn't understand it, but itsounded as if they were glad to be rid of you. "

"Well, I wouldn't blame them, " Jim said. "I'm not exactly afeatherweight, and it can't be much fun to be killed carrying theenemy about, whether you're a Boche or not. "

He lay for a while silently, thinking. Did they know at home yet? hewondered anxiously. And then he suddenly realized that his fall musthave looked like certain death: that if they had heard anything itwould be that he had been killed. He turned cold at the thought. _What_ had they heard--his father, Norah? And Wally--what did hethink? Was Wally himself alive? He might even be a prisoner. Heturned at that thought to Callaghan, his sudden move bringing astifled cry to his lips. 

"Did they--are there any other officers of my regiment here?"

"There are not, " said Callaghan. "I got the priest to look at yourbadges, sir, the way he could find out if there was anny more of ye. But there is not. Them that's here is mostly Dublins and Munsters, with a sprinkling of Canadians. There's not an officer or man of theBlankshires here at all, barring yourself. "

"Will the Germans let us communicate with our people?"

"Communicate, is it?" said the Irishman. "Yerra, they'll not letanyone send so much as a scratch on a post-card. " He dropped hisvoice. "Whisht now, sir: the priest's taking all our addresses, andhe'll do his best to send word to every one at home. "

"But can he depend on getting through?"

"Faith, he cannot. But 'tis the only chance we've got. The poorman's nothing but a prisoner himself; he's watched if he goes tinyards from the church. So I dunno, at all, will he ever manage it, with the suspicions they have of him. "

Jim sighed impatiently. He could do nothing, then, nothing to keepthe blow from falling on the two dear ones at home. He thought oftrying to bribe the German guards, and felt for his pocket-book, butit was gone; some careful Boche had managed to relieve him of it whilehe had been unconscious. And he was helpless, a log--while over inEngland Norah and his father were, perhaps, already mourning him asdead. His thoughts travelled to Billabong, where Brownie and MurtyO'Toole and the others kept the home ready for them all, working withthe love that makes nothing a toil, and planning always for the greatday that should bring them all back. He pictured the newsarriving--saw Brownie's dismayed old face, and heard her cry ofincredulous pain. And there was nothing he could do. It seemedunbelievable that such things could be, in a sane world. But then, the world was no longer sane; it had gone mad nearly two years before, and he was only one of the myriad atoms caught into the swirl of itsmadness. 

The _cure_ came again, presently, and saw his troubled face. "You arein pain, my son?"

"No--I'm all right if I keep quiet, " Jim answered. "But it's mypeople. Callaghan says you will try to let them know, Father. "

"I am learning you all, " said the priest, "names, regiments, andnumbers is it not? I dare not put them on paper: I have been searchedthree times already, even to my shoes. But I hope that my chance willcome before long. Then I will send them to your War Office. " Hebeamed down on Jim so hopefully that it seemed rather likely that hewould find a private telegraph office of his own, suddenly. "Now Iwill learn your name and regiment. " He repeated them several times, nodding his head. 

"Yes, that is an easy one, " he said. "Some of them are very terrible, to a Frenchman; our friend here"--he looked quaintly atCallaghan--"has a name which it twists the tongue to say. And now, myson, I would like to examine you, since you are conscious. I am theonly doctor--a poor one, I fear. But perhaps we will find outtogether that there is nothing to be uneasy about. "

That, indeed, was what they did find out, after a rather agonizinghalf-hour. Jim was quite unable to move his legs, being so bruisedthat there was scarcely a square inch of him that was not green andblue and purple. One hip bore the complete impress of a foot, lividand angry. 

"Yes, that chap jumped on me from a good height, " Jim said when the_cure_ exclaimed at it. "I thought he had smashed my leg. "

"He went near it, " said the _cure_. "Indeed, my son, you are beatento a jelly. But that will recover itself. You can breathe withoutpain? That is well. Now we will look at the head. " He unwrapped thebandages and felt the lump tenderly. "Ah, that is better; a littleconcussion, I think, _mon brave_; it is that which kept you so quietwhen you stayed with us at first. And the cut heals well; that comesof being young and strong, with clean, healthy blood. " He bathed thehead, and replaced the bandages, sighing that he had no clean ones. "But with you it matters little; you will not need them in a few days. Then perhaps we will wash these and they will be ready for the nextpoor boy. " He smiled at Jim. "Move those legs as much as you can, myson, and rub them. " He trotted away. 

"And that same is good advice, " said Callaghan. "It will hurt tomove, sir, and you beaten to a pulp first and then stiffening for thethree days you're after lying here; 'tis all I wish I could rub you, with a good bottle of Elliman's to do it with. But if them Huns moveyou 'twill hurt a mighty lot more than if you move yourself. Themselves is the boys for that; they think they've got a feather intheir caps if they get an extra yelp out of annywan. So do the bestyou can, sir. "

"I will, " said Jim--and did his best, for long hours every day. Itwas weary work, with each movement torture, and for a time very littleencouragement came in the shape of improvement: then, slowly, withrubbing and exercise, the stiffened muscles began to relax. Callaghancheered him on, forgetting his own aching leg in his sympathy for theboy in his silent torment. In the intervals of "physical jerks, " Jimtalked to his little neighbour, whose delight knew no bounds when heheard that Jim knew and cared for his country. He himself was a Corkman, with a wife and two sons; Jim gathered that their equal was notto be found in any town in Ireland. Callaghan occasionally lamentedthe "foolishness" that had kept him in the Army, when he had a rightto be home looking after Hughie and Larry. "'Tis not much the Armygives you, and you giving it the best years of your life, " he said. "I'd be better out of it, and home with me boys. "

"Then you wouldn't let them go to the war, if they were old enough?"Jim asked. 

"If they were old enough 'twould not be asking my liberty they'd be, "rejoined Mr. Callaghan proudly. "Is it _my_ sons that 'ud shtand outof a fight like this?" He glared at Jim, loftily unconscious of anyinconsistency in his remarks. 

"Well, there's plenty of your fellow-countrymen that won't go andfight, Cally!" said the man beyond him--a big Yorkshireman. 

"There's that in all countries, " said Callaghan calmly. "They didn'tall go in your part of the country, did they, till they were made?Faith, I'm towld there's a few there yet in odd corners--and likely tobe till after the war. " The men round roared joyfully, at theexpense of the Yorkshireman. 

"And 'tis not in Ireland we have that quare baste the con-sci-en-tiousobjector, " went on Callaghan, rolling the syllables lovingly on histongue. "That's an animal a man wouldn't like to meet, now! Whateverour objectors are in Ireland, they're surely never con-sci-en-tious!"

Jim gave a crack of laughter that brought the roving grey eye squarelyupon him. 

"Even in Australia, that's the Captain's country, " said the soft Irishvoice, "I've heard tell there's a boy or two there out of khaki--maybethey're holding back for conscription too. But wherever the boys arethat don't go, none of them have a song and dance made about them, barring only the Irish. "

"What about your Sinn Feiners?" some one sang out. Callaghan's facefell. 

"Yerra, they have the country destroyed, " he admitted. "And nine outof every ten don't know annything about politics or annything else atall, only they get talked over, and towld that they're patriots ifthey'll get howld of a gun and do a little drilling at night--an'where's the country boy that wouldn't give his ears for a gun! An'the English Gov'mint, that could stop it all with the stroke of a pen, hasn't the pluck to bring in conscription in Ireland. "

"You're right there, Cally, " said some one. 

"I know well I'm right. But the thousands and tens of thousands ofIrish boys that went to the war and fought till they died--they'll beforgotten, and the Sinn Fein scum'll be remembered. If the Gov'minthad the pluck of a mouse they'd be all right. I tell you, boys, 'twill be the Gov'mint's own fault if we see the haythin Turksparading the fair fields of Ireland, with their long tails held up bythe Sinn Feiners!" Callaghan relapsed into gloomy contemplation ofthis awful possibility, and refused to be drawn further. Even whenJim, desiring to be tactful, mentioned a famous Irish V. C. Who had, single-handed, slain eight Germans, he declined to show anyenthusiasm. 

"Ah, what V. C. !" he said sourly. "Sure, his owld father wouldn't makea fuss of him. 'Why didn't he do more?' says he. 'I often laid outtwenty men myself with a stick, and I coming from Macroom Fair. It isa bad trial of Mick that he could kill only eight, and he having arifle and bayonet!' he says. Cock him up with a V. C. !" After whichJim ceased to be consoling and began to exercise his worstleg--knowing well that the sight of his torments would speedily meltDenny's heart and make him forget the sorrows of Ireland. 

The guards did not trouble them much; they kept a strict watch, whichwas not difficult, as all the prisoners were partially disabled; andthen considered their duty discharged by bringing twice a day theinvariable meal of soup and bread. No one liked to speculate on whathad gone to the making of the soup; it was a pale, greasy liquid, withstrange lumps in it, and tasted as dish-water may be supposed totaste. Jim learned to eat the sour bread by soaking it in the soup. He had no inclination to eat, but he forced himself to swallow thedisgusting meals, so that he might keep up his strength, just as heworked his stiff limbs and rubbed them most of the day. For there wasbut one idea in Jim Linton's mind--escape. 

Gradually he became able to sit up, and then to move a little, hobbling painfully on a stick which had been part of a broken pew, andendeavouring to take part in looking after the helpless prisoners, andin keeping the church clean, since the guards laughed at the idea ofhelping at either. Jim had seen something of the treatment given towounded German soldiers in England, and he writhed to think of them, tended as though they were our own sick, while British prisoners layand starved in filthy holes. But the little _cure_ rebuked him. 

"But what would you, my son? They are _canaille_--without breeding, without decency, without hearts. Are we to put ourselves on thatlevel?"

"I suppose not--but it's a big difference, Father, " Jim muttered. 

"The bigger the difference, the more honour on our side, " said thelittle priest. "And things pass. Long after you and I and all thesepoor lads are forgotten it will be remembered that we came out of thiswar with our heads up. But they----!" Suddenly fierce scorn filledhis quiet eyes. "They will be the outcasts of the world!"

Wherefore Jim worked on, and tried to take comfort by the _cure's_philosophy; although there were many times when he found it hard todigest. It was all very well to be cheerful about the verdict of thefuture, but difficult to forget the insistent present, with the heelof the Hun on his neck. It was sometimes easier to be philosophic bydreaming of days when the positions should be reversed. 

He was able to walk a little when the order came to move. The guardsbecame suddenly busy; officers whom the prisoners had not seen beforecame in and out, and one evening the helpless were put roughly intofarm carts and taken to the station, while those able to move bythemselves were marched after them--marched quickly, with bayonetpoints ready behind them to prod stragglers. It was nearly dark whenthey were thrust roughly into closed trucks, looking back for the lasttime on the little _cure_, who had marched beside them, with an armfor two sick men, and now stood on the platform, looking wistfully atthem. He put up his hand solemnly. 

"God keep you, my sons!"

A German soldier elbowed him roughly aside. The doors of the truckswere clashed together, leaving them in darkness; and presently, withstraining and rattling and clanging, the train moved out of thestation. 

"Next stop, Germany!" said Denny Callaghan from the corner where hehad been put down. "And not a ticket between the lot of us!"

CHAPTER XVI

THROUGH THE DARKNESS

"I think that's the last load, " Jim Linton said. 

He had wriggled backwards out of a black hole in the side of a blackcupboard; and now sat back on his heels, gasping. His only article ofattire was a pair of short trousers. From his hair to his heels hewas caked with dirt. 

"Well, praise the pigs for that, " said a voice from the blackness ofthe cupboard. 

Some one switched on a tiny electric light. Then it could be seen, dimly, that the cupboard was just large enough to hold four men, crouching so closely that they almost touched each other. All weredressed--or undressed--as Jim was; all were equally dirty. Theirblackened faces were set and grim. And whether they spoke, or moved, or merely sat still, they were listening--listening. 

All four were British officers. Marsh and Fullerton were subalternsbelonging to a cavalry regiment. Desmond was a captain--a DublinFusilier; and Jim Linton completed the quartette; and they sat in ahole in the ground under the floor of an officers' barrack in aWestphalian prison-camp. The yawning opening in front of themrepresented five months' ceaseless work, night after night. It wasthe mouth of a tunnel. 

"I dreamed to-day that we crawled in, " Marsh said, in a whisper--theyhad all learned to hear the faintest murmur of speech. "And wecrawled, and crawled, and crawled: for years, it seemed. And then wesaw daylight ahead, and we crawled out--in Piccadilly Circus!"

"That was 'some' tunnel, even in a dream, " Desmond said. 

"I feel as if it were 'some' tunnel now, " remarked Jim--stillbreathing heavily. 

"Yes--you've had a long spell, Linton. We were just beginning tothink something was wrong. "

"I thought I might as well finish--and then another bit of roof fellin, and I had to fix it, " Jim answered. "Well, it won't be gardeningthat I'll go in for when I get back to Australia; I've dug enough hereto last me my life!"

"Hear, hear!" said some one. "And what now?"

"Bed, I think, " Desmond said. "And to-morrow night--the last crawldown that beastly rabbit-run, if we've luck. Only this time we won'tcrawl back. "

He felt within a little hollow in the earth wall, and brought out someempty tins and some bottles of water; and slowly, painstakingly, theywashed off the dirt that encrusted them. It was a long business, andat the end of it Desmond inspected them all, and was himselfinspected, to make sure that no tell-tale streaks remained. Finallyhe nodded, satisfied, and then, with infinite caution, he slid back apanel and peered out into blackness--having first extinguished theirlittle light. There was no sound. He slipped out of the door, andreturned after a few moments. 

"All clear, " he whispered, and vanished. 

One by one they followed him, each man gliding noiselessly away. Theyhad donned uniform coats and trousers before leaving, and closed theentrance to the tunnel with a round screen of rough, interlaced twigswhich they plastered with earth. The tins were buried again, withthe bottles. Ordinarily each man carried away an empty bottle, to bebrought back next night filled with water; but there was no furtherneed of this. To-morrow night, please God, there would be noreturning; no washing, crouched in the darkness, to escape the eagleeye of the guards; no bitter toil in the darkness, listening withstrained ears all the while. 

Jim was the last to leave. He slid the panel into position, andplaced against it the brooms and mops used in keeping the barrackclean. As he handled them one by one, a brush slipped and clatteredever so slightly. He caught at it desperately, and then stoodmotionless, beads of perspiration breaking out upon his forehead. Butno sound came from without, and presently he breathed more freely. 

He stood in a cupboard under the stairs. It was Desmond who firstrealized that there must be space beyond it, who had planned a way in, and thence to cut a tunnel to freedom. They had found, or stolen, ormanufactured, tools, and had cut the sliding panel so cunningly thatnone of the Germans who used the broom-cupboard had suspected itsexistence. The space on the far side of the wall had given them roomto begin their work. Gradually it had been filled with earth untilthere was barely space for them to move; then the earth as they dug itout had to be laboriously thrust under the floor of the building, which was luckily raised a little above ground. They had managed tosecrete some wire, and, having tapped the electric supply which litthe barrack, had carried a switch-line into their "dug-out. " But thetunnel itself had, for the most part, been done in utter blackness. Three times the roof had fallen in badly, on the second occasionnearly burying Jim and Fullerton; it was considered, now, that Lintonwas a difficult man to bury, with an unconquerable habit ofresurrecting himself. A score of times they had narrowly escapeddetection. For five months they had lived in a daily and nightlyagony of fear--not of discovery itself, or its certain savagepunishment, but of losing their chance. 

There were eight officers altogether in the "syndicate, " and fourothers knew of their plan--four who were keen to help, but too badlydisabled from wounds to hope for anything but the end of the war. They worked in shifts of four--one quartette stealing underground eachnight, as soon as the guards relaxed their vigil, while the othersremained in the dormitories, ready to signal to the working party, should any alarm occur, and, if possible, to create a disturbance tohold the attention of the Germans for a little. They had succeeded insaving the situation three times when a surprise roll-call was madeduring the night--thanks to another wire which carried an electricalarm signal underground from the dormitory. Baylis, who had been anelectrical engineer in time of peace, had managed the wiring; it wasbelieved among the syndicate that when Baylis needed any electricfitting very badly he simply went and thought about it so hard that itmaterialized, like the gentleman who evolved a camel out of his innerconsciousness. 

One of the romances of the Great War might be written about the way inwhich prisoners bent on escape were able to obtain materials forgetting out, and necessary supplies when once they were away from thecamp. Much of how it was done will never be known, for theorganization was kept profoundly secret, and those who were helped byit were often pledged solemnly to reveal nothing. Money--plenty ofmoney--was the only thing necessary; given the command of that, theprisoner who wished to break out would find, mysteriously, tools ordisguises, or whatever else he needed within the camp, and, after hehad escaped, the three essentials, without which he had very littlechance--map, compass, and civilian clothes. Then, having paidenormous sums for what had probably cost the supply system a fewshillings, he was at liberty to strike for freedom--with a section ofGerman territory--a few miles or a few hundred--to cross; and finallythe chance of circumventing the guards on the Dutch frontier. It wasso desperate an undertaking that the wonder was, not that so manyfailed, but that so many succeeded. 

Jim Linton had no money. His was one of the many cases amongprisoners in which no letters over seemed to reach home--nocommunication to be opened up with England. For some time he had notbeen permitted to write, having unfortunately managed to incur theenmity of the camp commandant by failing to salute him with theprecise degree of servility which that official considered necessaryto his dignity. Then, when at length he was allowed to send anoccasional letter, he waited in vain for any reply, either from hishome or his regiment. Possibly the commandant knew why; he used tolook at Jim with an evil triumph in his eye which made the boy long totake him by his fat throat and ask him whether indeed his letters evergot farther than the office waste-paper basket. 

Other officers in the camp would have written about him to theirfriends, so that the information could be passed on to Jim's father;but in all probability their letters also would have been suppressed, and Jim refused to allow them to take the risk. Letters were tooprecious, and went astray too easily; it was not fair to add to thechances of their failing to reach those who longed for them at home. And then, there was always the hope that his own might really have gotthrough, even though delayed; that some day might come answers, telling that at last his father and Norah and Wally were no longermourning him as dead. He clung to the hope though one mail day afteranother left him bitterly disappointed. In a German prison-camp therewas little to do except hope. 

Jim would have fared badly enough on the miserable food of the camp, but for the other officers. They received parcels regularly, thecontents of which were dumped into a common store; and Jim and another"orphan" were made honorary members of the mess, with such genuineheartiness that after the first protests they ceased to worry theirhosts with objections, and merely tried to eat as little as possible. 

Jim thought about them gratefully on this last night as he slipped outof the cupboard and made his way upstairs, moving noiselessly as a caton the bare boards. What good chaps they were! How they had made himwelcome!--even though his coming meant that they went hungrier. Theywere such a gay, laughing little band; there was not one of them whodid not play the game, keeping a cheery front to the world and meetingprivation and wretchedness with a joke and a shrug. If that wasBritish spirit, then Jim decided that to be British was a pretty bigthing. 

It was thanks to Desmond and Fullerton that he had been able to jointhe "syndicate. " They had plenty of money, and had insisted onlending him his share of the expenses, representing, when he hadhesitated, that they needed his strength for the work oftunnelling--after which Jim had laboured far more mightily than theyhad ever wished, or even suspected. He was fit and strong again now;lean and pinched, as were they all, but in hard training. Hope hadkeyed him up to a high pitch. The last night in this rat-hole;to-morrow----!

A light flashed downstairs and a door flung open just as he reachedthe landing. Jim sprang to his dormitory, flinging off his coat as heran with leaping, stealthy strides. Feet were tramping up the stairsbehind him. He dived into his blankets and drew them up under hischin, just as he had dived hurriedly into bed a score of times atschool when an intrusive master had come upon a midnight "spread"; butwith his heart pounding with fear as it had never pounded at school. What did they suspect? Had they found out anything?

The guard tramped noisily into the room, under a big Feldwebel, orsergeant-major. He flashed his lantern down the long room, anduttered a sharp word of command that brought the sleepers to theirfeet, blinking and but half awake. Then he called the roll, pausingwhen he came to Jim. 

"You sleep in a curious dress. Where is your shirt?"

"Drying, " said Jim curtly. "I washed it--I've only one. "

"Enough for an English swine-hound, " said the German contemptuously. He passed on to the next man, and Jim sighed with relief. 

Presently the guard clanked out, and the prisoners returned to theirstraw mattresses. 

"That was near enough, " whispered Baylis, who was next to Jim. 

"A good deal too near, " Jim answered. "However, it ought to be fairlycertain that they won't spring another surprise-party on us to-morrow. And a miss is as good as a mile. " He turned over, and in a moment wassleeping like a baby. 

The next day dragged cruelly. 

To the eight conspirators it seemed as long as the weary stretch ofmonths since they had come to the camp. For a long while they hadavoided each other as far as possible in public, knowing that even twomen who talked much together were liable to be suspected of plotting;on this last day they became afraid even to look at each other, andwandered about, each endeavouring to put as great a distance aspossible between himself and the other seven. It became rather like acurious game of hide-and-seek, and by evening they were thoroughly"jumpy, " with their nerves all on edge. 

They had no preparations to make. Scarcely any of their fewpossessions could be taken with them; they would find outside--if everthey got there--food and clothing. They had managed to make roughknives that were fairly serviceable weapons; beyond these, and a fewsmall personal belongings they took nothing except the clothes theywore--and they wore as little as possible, and those the oldest andshabbiest things to be found. So there was nothing to do, all thatlast day, but watch the slow hours pass, and endeavour to avoidfalling foul of any of the guards--no easy matter, since every Germandelighted in any chance of making trouble for a prisoner. Nothing butto think and plan, as they had planned and thought a thousand timesbefore; to wonder desperately was all safe still--had the door beenfound in the cupboard under the stairs? was the tunnel safe, or had itchosen to-day of all days to fall in again? was the exit--in a bed ofrunner beans--already known and watched? The Huns were so cunning intheir watchfulness; it was quite likely that they knew all about theirdesperate enterprise, and were only waiting to pounce upon them in theinstant that success should seem within their grasp. That was howthey loved to catch prisoners. 

The age-long afternoon dragged to a close. They ate their supper, without appetite--which was a pity, since the meagre store of food inthe mess had been recklessly ransacked, to give them a good send-off. Then another hour--muttering good-byes now and then, as they prowledabout; and finally, to bed, to lie there for hours of darkness andsilence. Gradually the noise of the camp died down. From theguard-room came, for a while, loud voices and harsh laughter; thenquiet fell there too, and presently the night watch tramped throughthe barrack on its last visit of inspection, flashing lanterns intothe faces of the prisoners. To-night the inspection seemed unusuallythorough. It set their strained nerves quivering anew. 

Then came an hour of utter stillness and darkness; the eight prisonerslying with clenched hands and set teeth, listening with terribleintentness. Finally, when Jim was beginning to feel that he mustmove, or go mad, a final signal came from the doorway. He heardBaylis say "Thank God!" under his breath, as they slipped out of bedin the darkness and felt their way downstairs. They were the last tocome. The others were all crouched in the cupboard, waiting for them, as they reached its door; and just as they did so, the outer doorwayswung open, with a blaze of light, and the big Feldwebel strode in. 

"Shut the door!" Jim whispered. He launched himself at the German ashe spoke, with a spring like a panther's. His fist caught him betweenthe eyes and he went down headlong, the lantern rolling into a corner. Jim knew nothing of what followed. He was on top of the Feldwebel, pounding his head on the floor; prepared, in his agony of despair, todo as much damage as possible before his brief dash for freedom ended. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, and heard Desmond's sharpwhisper. 

"Steady--he's unconscious. Let me look at him, Linton. "

Jim, still astride his capture, sat back, and Desmond flashed theFeldwebel's own lantern into that hero's face. 

"H'm, yes, " he said. "Hit his head against something. He's stunned, anyhow. What are we going to do with him?"

"Is he the only one?" Jim asked. 

"It seems like it. But there may be another at any moment. We've gotto go on; if he wakes up he'll probably be able to identify you. " Hefelt in his pocket, and produced a coil of strong cord. "Come along, Linton--get off and help me to tie him up. "

They tied up the unconscious Feldwebel securely, and lifted him intothe cupboard among the brooms, gagging him in case he felt inclinedfor any outcry on coming to his senses. The others had gone ahead, and were already in the tunnel; with them, one of the four disabledofficers, whose job it was to close up the hole at the entrance anddismantle the electric light, in the faint hope that the Germans mightfail to discover their means of escape, and so leave it free foranother party to try for freedom. He stood by the yawning hole, holding one end of a string by which they were to signal from thesurface, if all went well. The wistfulness of his face haunted Jimlong afterwards. 

"Good-bye, old man, " he said cheerily, gripping Jim's hand. "Goodluck. "

"I wish you were coming, Harrison, " Jim said, unhappily. 

"No such luck. Cheero, though: the war won't last for ever. I'll seeyou in Blighty. " They shook hands again, and Jim dived into thetunnel. 

He knew every inch of it, and wriggled quickly along until the top ofhis head encountered the boots of the man in front of him, after whichhe went more slowly. There seemed a long delay at the end--longenough to make him break into a sweat of fear lest something shouldhave gone wrong. Such thoughts come easily enough when you are lyingfull length in black darkness, in a hole just large enough to hold aman; in air so stifling that the laboured breath can scarcely come;with the dank earth just under mouth and nose, and overhead a roofthat may fall in at any moment. The dragging minutes went by. Then, just as despair seized him, the boots ahead moved. He wriggled afterthem, finding himself praying desperately as he went. A rush of sweetair came to him, and then a hand, stretching down, caught hisshoulder, and helped him out. 

It was faintly moonlight. They stood in a thick plantation of runnerbeans, trained on rough trellis-work, in a garden beyond thebarbed-wire fence of the camp. The tunnel had turned sharply upwardsat the end; they had brought with them some boards and other materialsfor filling it up, and now they set to work furiously, after givingthe signal with the string to Harrison; the three sharp tugs thatmeant "All Clear!" The boards held the earth they shovelled in withtheir hands; they stamped it flat, and then scattered loose earth ontop, with leaves and rubbish, working with desperate energy--fearingeach moment to hear the alarm raised within the barrack. Finally allbut Desmond gained the beaten earth of the path, while he followed, trying to remove all trace of footprints on the soft earth. He joinedthem in a moment. 

"If they don't worry much about those beans for a few days they maynot notice anything, " he said. "Come along. "

So often had they studied the way from behind the barbed-wire thatthey did not need even the dim moonlight. They hurried through thegarden with stealthy strides, bending low behind a row ofcurrant-bushes, and so over a low hedge and out into a field beyond. There they ran; desperately at first, and gradually slackening to asteady trot that carried them across country for a mile, and then outupon a highroad where there was no sign of life. At a cross-roads twomiles further on they halted. 

"We break up here, " Desmond said. "You can find your _cache_ allright, you think, Baylis?"

"Oh, yes, " Baylis nodded. It had been thought too dangerous for somany to try to escape together, so two hiding-places of clothes andfood had been arranged. Later they would break up again into couples. 

"Then we'd better hurry. Good night, you fellows, and good luck. We'll have the biggest dinner in Blighty together--when we all getthere!"

"Good luck!"

Baylis led his party down a road to the east, and Jim, Fullerton andMarsh struck south after Desmond, who paused now and then to consult arough map, by a pocket-lamp. On and on, by a network of lanes, skirting farmhouses where dogs might bark; flinging themselves flat ina ditch once, when a regiment of Uhlans swept by, unconscious of thegasping fugitives a few yards away. Jim sat up and looked after theirretreating ranks. 

"By Jove, I wish we could borrow a few of their horses!"

"Might buck you off, my son, " said Desmond. "Come on. "

A little wood showed before them presently, and Desmond sighed withrelief. 

"That's our place, I think. " He looked at the map again. "We've gotto make for the south-west corner and find a big, hollow tree. "

They brushed through the close-growing firs, starting in fear as anowl flew out above them, hooting dismally. It was not easy to findanything, for the moonlight was scarcely able to filter through thebranches. Jim took the lead, and presently they scattered to look forthe tree. Something big loomed up before Jim presently. 

"It should be about here, " he muttered, feeling with his hand for thehollow. Then, as he encountered a roughly-tied bundle, he whistledsoftly, and in a moment brought them all to his side. 

There were four rough suits of clothes in the package; a big bag ofbread, meat, and chocolate; and, most precious of all, a flat boxcontaining maps, compasses, and some German money. They changedhurriedly, thrusting their uniforms deep into the hollow of the treeand covering them with leaves; and then divided the food. There was afaint hint of dawn in the sky when at length their preparations werecomplete. 

"Well, you know your general direction, boys, " Desmond said to Marshand Fullerton. "Get as far as you can before light, and then hide forthe day. Hide well, remember; they'll be looking for us prettythoroughly to-day. Good luck!" They shook hands and hurried away indifferent directions. 

Desmond and Jim came out into open fields beyond the wood, and settleddown to steady running over field after field. Sometimes theystumbled over ploughed land; sometimes made their way between rows ofmangolds or turnips, where their feet sank deeply into the yieldingsoil; then, with a scramble through a ditch or hedge, came upon grassland where sheep or cows gazed stolidly at the shadowy, racingfigures. The east brightened with long streaks of pink; slowly thedarkness died, and the yellow circle of the sun came up over thehorizon, and found them still running--casting anxious glances toright and left in search of a hiding-place. 

"Hang these open fields!--will they never end!" Desmond gasped. "Weshould be under cover now. "

Behind a little orchard a farm-house came into view; they were almostupon a cow-house. It was daylight; a window in the house rattled up, and a man shouted to a barking dog. The fugitives ducked by a suddenimpulse, and darted into the cow-shed. 

It was a long, low building, divided into stables. There was nohiding-place visible, and despair held them for a moment. Then Jimcaught sight of a rough ladder leading to an opening in the ceiling, and flung his hand towards it; he had no speech left. They went up ithand over hand, and found themselves in a dim loft, with pea-strawheaped at one end. Desmond was almost done. 

"Lie down--quick!" Jim pushed him into the straw and covered him overwith great bundles of it. Then he crawled in himself, pulling therough pea-stalks over him until he had left himself only a peep-holecommanding the trap-door. As he did so, voices came into the stable. 

They held their breath, feeling for their knives. Then Desmondsmothered a laugh. 

"What did they say?" Jim whispered. 

"It would be 'Bail up, Daisy!' in English, " Desmond whispered back. "They're beginning to milk the cows. "

"I wish they'd milk Daisy up here, " Jim grinned. "Man, but I'mthirsty!"

It was thirsty work, lying buried in the dusty pea-straw, in theclose, airless loft. Hours went by, during which they dared not move, for when the milking was done, and the cows turned out, people keptcoming and going in the shed. They picked up a little informationabout the war from their talk--Jim's German was scanty, but Desmondspoke it like a native; and in the afternoon a farmer from somedistance away, who had apparently come to buy pigs, let fall theremark that a number of prisoners had escaped from the English camp. No one seemed much interested; the war was an incident, not reallymattering so much, in their estimation, as the sale of the pigs. Thenevery one went away, and Jim and his companion fell asleep. 

It was nearly dark when they awoke. The sleep had done them good, butthey were overpoweringly thirsty--so thirsty that the thought of foodwithout drink was nauseating. The evening milking was going on; theycould hear the rattle of the streams of milk into the pails, in theintervals of harsh voices. Then the cows were turned out and heavyfeet stamped away. 

"They should all be out of the way pretty soon, " Desmond whispered. "Then we can make a move. We must get to water somehow, or----" Hebroke off, listening. "Lie still!" he added quickly. "Some one iscoming up for straw. "

"How do you know?"

"'Tis a young lady, and she volunteering to see to bedding for thepigs!" Desmond answered. 

The ladder creaked, and, peering out, they saw a shock yellow headrise into the trap-door. The girl who came up was abouttwenty--stoutly built, with a broad, good-humoured face. She worerough clothes, and but for her two thick plaits of yellow hair, mighteasily have passed for a man. 

The heavy steps came slowly across the floor, while the men lay tryingto breath so softly that no unusual movement should stir the loosepea-straw. Then, to their amazement, she spoke. 

"Where are you?" she said in English. 

Astonishment as well as fear held them silent. She waited a moment, and spoke again. 

"I saw you come in. You need not be afraid. "

Still they made no sign. She gave a short laugh. 

"Well, if you will not answer, I must at least get my straw for mypigs. "

She stooped, and her great arms sent the loose stalks flying in everydirection. Desmond and Jim sat up and looked at her in silence. 

"You don't seem to want to be killed, " Desmond said. "But assuredlyyou will be, if you raise an alarm. "

The girl laughed. 

"I could have done that all day, if I had wished, " she said. "Eversince I saw you run in when I put up my window this morning. "

"Well--what do you want? Money?"

"No. " She shook her head. "I do not want anything. I was brought upin England, and I think this is a silly war. There is a bucket ofmilk for you downstairs; it will come up if one of you will pull thestring you will find tied to the top of the ladder. " She laughed. "If I go to get it you will think I am going to call for help. "

Jim was beyond prudence at the moment. He took three strides to theladder, found the cord, and pulled up a small bucket, three parts fullof new milk. The girl sat down on an empty oil-drum and watched themdrink. 

"So! You are thirsty, indeed, " she said. "Now I have food. "

She unearthed from a huge pocket a package of bread and sausage. 

"Now you can eat. It is quite safe, and you could not leave yet; myuncle is still wandering about. He is like most men; they wanderabout and are very busy, but they never do any work. I run the farm, and get no wages, either. But in England I got wages. In Clapham. That is the place of all others which I prefer. "

"Do you, indeed?" Desmond said, staring at this amazing female. "Butwhy did you leave Clapham?"

"My father came back to fight. He knew all about the war; he leftEngland two months before it began. I did not wish to leave. Idesired to remain, earning good wages. But my father would not permitme. "

"And where is he now?"

She shrugged her shoulders. 

"I do not know. Fighting: killed, perhaps. But my uncle graciouslyoffered me a home, and here am I. I do the work of three men, and Iam--how did we say it in Clapham?--bored stiff for England. I wishthis silly old war would end, so that I could return. "

"We're trying to return without waiting for it to end, " said Jimsolemnly. "Only I'd like to know how you knew what we were. "

"But what else could you be? It is so funny how you put on theseclothes, like the ostrich, and think no one will guess who you are. If you wore his suit of feathers you would still look like Britishofficers and nothing else. "

"You're encouraging, " said Desmond grimly. "I hope all your nationwon't be as discerning. "

"Ach--they!" said the girl. "They see no farther than their noses. I, too, was like that before I went to Clapham. "

"It's a pleasant spot, " said Desmond. "I don't wonder you improvedthere. But all the same, you are German, aren't you? I don't quitesee why you want to befriend us. " He took a satisfying mouthful ofsausage. "But I'm glad you do. "

"In England I am--well, pretty German, " said his fair hostess. "Theboys in Clapham, they call me Polly Sauer Kraut. And I talk of theFatherland, and sing 'Die Wacht am Rhein. ' Oh yes. But when I comeback here and work for my so economical uncle on this beastly farm, then I remember Clapham and I do not feel German at all. I cannothelp it. But if I said so, I would skinned be, very quickly. So Isay 'Gott Strafe England!' But that is only eyewash!"

"Well, we'll think kindly of one German woman, anyhow, " said Desmond. "The last of your charming sisters I met was a Red Cross nurse at astation where our train pulled up when I was going through, wounded. I asked her for a glass of water, and she brought it to me allright--only just as she gave it to me she spat in it. I've been awoman-hater ever since, until I met you. " He lifted the bucket, andlooked at her over its rim. "Here's your very good health, Miss PollySauer Kraut, and may I meet you in Clapham!"

The girl beamed. 

"Oh, I will be there, " she said confidently. "I have money in theBank in London: I will have a little baker shop, and you will get suchpastry as the English cannot make. "

Jim laughed. 

"And then you will be pretty German again!"

"I do not know. " She shook her head. "No, I think I will just beSwiss. They will not know the difference in Clapham. And I do notthink they will want Germans back. Of course, the Germans willgo--but they will call themselves Swiss, Poles, any old thing. Justat first, until the English forget: the English always forget, youknow. "

"If they forget all they've got to remember over this business--wellthen, they deserve to get the Germans back, " said Desmond, grimly. "Always excepting yourself, Miss Polly. You'd be an ornament towhichever nation you happened to favour at the moment. " He finishedthe last remnant of his sausage. "That was uncommonly good, thankyou. Now, don't you think we could make a move?"

"I will see if my uncle is safely in. Then I will whistle. " She randown the ladder, and presently they heard a low call, and going down, found her awaiting them in the cow-shed. 

"He is at his supper, so all is quite safe, " she said. "Now you hadbetter take the third road to the right, and keep straight on. It isnot so direct as the main road, but that would lead you throughseveral places where the police are very active--and there is a rewardfor you, you know!" She laughed, her white teeth flashing in the dimshed. "Good-bye; and when I come back to Clapham you will come andtake tea at my little shop. "

"We'll come and make you the fashion, Miss Polly, " said Desmond. "Thank you a thousand times. " They swung off into the dusk. 

CHAPTER XVII

LIGHTS OUT

"There was two of every single thing in the Ark, " said Geoffreyfirmly. "The man in Church read it out of the Bible. "

"Two Teddy-bears?" asked Alison. 

"No; Teddies are only toys. There was real bears, though. "

"Meat ones?" asked his sister hopefully. 

"Yes. And all the other nanimals. "

"Who drived 'em in?"

"Ole Noah and Mrs. Noah. Mustn't they have had a time! If you triedto drive in our turkeys an sheep and cows together there'd be awfultrouble--and Noah had lions and tigers and snakes too. "

"Perhaps he had good sheep-dogs, " Norah suggested. She was sewingwith Mrs. Hunt under a tree on the lawn, while the children playedwith a Noah's Ark on a short-legged table near them. 

"He'd need them, " Geoffrey said. "But would sheep-dogs be any good atdriving snakes and porklepines, Norah?"

"Noah's might have been, " Norah answered prudently. "They must havebeen used to it, you see. And I believe a good sheep-dog would getused to anything. "

"Funny things ole Noah and his fam'ly wore, " said Geoffrey, looking atJaphet with disfavour. "Like dressing-gowns, only worse. Wouldn'thave been much good for looking after nanimals in. Why, even the LandArmy girls wear trousers now!"

"Well, fashions were different then, " said Mrs. Hunt. "Perhaps, too, they took off the dressing-gowns when they got inside the Ark, and hadtrousers underneath. "

"Where'd they keep all the food for the nanimals, anyhow?" Geoffreydemanded. "They'd want such a lot, and it would have to be alldifferent sorts of food. Tigers wouldn't eat vegi-tubbles, likerabbits. "

"And efalunts would eat buns, " said Alison anxiously. "Did Mrs. Noahmake vem buns?"

"She couldn't, silly, unless she had a gas-stove, " said Geoffrey. "They couldn't carry firewood as well. I say, Mother, don't you thinkthe Ark must have had a supply-ship following round, like the Navyhas?"

"It isn't mentioned, " said Mrs. Hunt. 

"I say!" said Geoffrey, struck by a new idea that put aside thequestion of supply. "Just fancy if a submarine had torpedoed the Ark!Wouldn't it have been exciting!"

"Let's do it in the bath, " said Alison, delightedly. 

"All right, " Geoffrey said. "May we, Mother?"

"Oh, yes, if you don't get too wet, " his mother said resignedly. "They can all swim, that's a comfort. 

"We'll muster them, " said Geoffrey, bundling the animals into a heap. "Hand over that bird, Alison. I say, Mother, which came first, a fowlor an egg?"

Mrs. Hunt sighed. 

"It isn't mentioned, " she said. "Which do you think?"

"Fowl, I 'specs, " answered her son. 

"_I_ fink it was ve egg, " said Alison. 

"How would it be hatched if it was, silly?" demanded her brother. "They didn't have ink-ink-inklebaters then. "

Alison puckered her brows, and remained undefeated. 

"P'raps Adam sat on it, " she suggested. 

"I cannot imagine Adam being broody, " said Mrs. Hunt. 

"Well, anyhow, he hatched out Eve!" said Geoffrey. No one ventured tocombat this statement, and the children formed themselves into astretcher party, bearing the Ark and its contents upon a tray in thedirection of the bathroom. 

"Aren't they darlings?" Norah said, laughing. "Look at that Michael!"

Michael was toddling behind the stretcher-party as fast as his fatlegs would permit, uttering short and sharp shrieks of anguish lest heshould be forgotten. Geoffrey gave the order, "Halt!" and the Ark andits bearers came to a standstill. 

"Come along, kid, " said the commanding officer. "You can be theband. " The procession was re-formed with Michael in the lead, tootingproudly on an imaginary bugle. They disappeared within the house. 

"They are growing so big and strong, " said Mrs. Hunt thankfully. "Michael can't wear any of the things that fitted Geoff at his age; asfor Alison, nothing seems to fit her for more than a month or two;then she gracefully bursts out of her garments! As for Geoff----!But he is getting really too independent: he went off by himself tothe village yesterday, and I found him playing football behind one ofthe cottages with a lot of small boys. "

"Oh--did you?" Norah said, looking a little worried. "We heard justbefore I came over this morning that there is a case of fever in thevillage--some travelling tinker-people seem to have brought it. Dadsaid I must tell you we had better not let the children go down therefor the present. "

"There were some gipsy-looking boys among the crowd that Geoff wasplaying with, " Mrs. Hunt said anxiously. "I do hope he hasn't run anyrisk. He is wearing the same clothes, too--I'll take them off him, and have them washed. " She gathered up her sewing hurriedly. "But Ithink Geoff is strong enough now to resist any germ. "

"Oh, of course he is, " Norah answered. "Still, it doesn't do any harmto take precautions. I'll come and help you, Mrs. Hunt. "

Geoffrey, congenially employed as a submarine commander about totorpedo the Ark, was distinctly annoyed at being reduced to a meresmall boy, and an unclad one at that. 

"I don't see why you want to undress me in the middle of the morning, "he said, wriggling out of his blue jersey. "And it isn't washing-day, either, and Alison and Michael'll go and sink the Ark without me ifyou don't hurry. "

"I won't let them, Geoff, " Norah reassured him. "I'm an airshipcommander cruising round over the submarine, and she doesn't dare toshow so much as the tip of her periscope. Of course, when her captaincomes back, he'll know what to do!"

"Rather!" said the Captain, wriggling this time in ecstasy. "I'lljust put up my anti-aircraft gun and blow the old airship tosmithereens. "

Alison uttered a howl. 

"_Won't_ have Norah made into smivvereens!"

"Don't you worry darling, I'll dodge, " said Norah. 

"Michael, what are you doing with Mrs. Noah?"

"Not want my dear 'ickle Mrs. Noah dwowned, " said Michael, concealingthe lady yet more securely in his tiny pocket. "She good. Michael_loves_ her. "

"Oh, rubbish, Michael! put her back in the Ark, " said Geoffreywrathfully. "However can we have a proper submarining if you go andcollar half the things?"

"Never collared nuffig, " said Michael, unmoved. "Only tooked my dear'ickle Mrs. Noah. "

"Never mind Geoff--he's only a small boy, " Mrs. Hunt said. 

"_Isn't_ a small boy!" protested Michael furiously. "Daddy said I was'normous. "

"So you are, best-beloved, " laughed Norah, catching him up. "Now thesubmarine commander has on clean clothes, and you'd better get readyto go on duty. " Geoffrey dashed back to the bath with a shout ofdefiance to the airship, and the destruction of the Ark proceededgaily. 

"There!" said Mrs. Hunt, putting Geoffrey's garments into a tub. "It's just as well to have them washed, but I really don't thinkthere's any need to worry. "

"I don't think you need, indeed!" said Norah, laughing, as a medley ofsound came from the bathroom. 

It was an "off" day for Norah. With Miss de Lisle she had potted andpreserved every variety of food that would lend itself to suchtreatment, and now the working season was almost over. For the firsttime the Home for Tired People had not many inmates, owing to the factthat leave had been stopped for several men at the Front who hadarranged to spend their holiday at Homewood. They had with them anelderly colonel and his wife; Harry Trevor and another Australian; asilent Major who played golf every hour of daylight, and read golfliterature during the other part of the day; and a couple of sappers, on final leave after recovering from wounds. To-day the Colonel andhis wife had gone up to London; the others, with the exception ofMajor Mackay, who, as usual, might be seen afar upon the links, hadgone with Mr. Linton to a sale where he hoped to secure some unusuallydesirable pigs; the sappers, happy in ignorance, promised themselvesmuch enjoyment in driving them home. Left alone, therefore, Norah hadgone for the day to Mrs. Hunt, ostensibly to improve her French andneedlework, but in reality to play with the babies. Just how much theHunt babies had helped her only Norah herself knew. 

"I'm asked to a festivity the day after to-morrow, " Mrs. Hunt saidthat afternoon. They were having tea in the pleasant sitting-room ofthe cottage; sounds from the kitchen indicated that Eva was giving hercelebrated performance of a grizzly bear for the benefit of thechildren. The performance always ended with a hunt, and with theslaying of the quarry by Geoffrey, after which the bear expired withlingering and unpleasant details. "Douglas's Colonel is in London onleave, and he and his wife have asked me to dine and go to a theatreafterwards. It would mean staying in London that night, of course. "

"So of course you'll go?"

"I should love to go, " Mrs. Hunt admitted. "It would be jolly initself, and then I should hear something about Douglas; and all heever tells me about himself might be put on a field postcard. If thebabies are quite well, Norah, do you think you would mind takingcharge?"

Norah laughed. She had occasionally come to sleep at the cottageduring a brief absence on Mrs. Hunt's part, and liked nothing better. 

"I should love to come, " she said. "But you'd better not put it thatway, or Eva will be dreadfully injured. "

"I don't--to Eva, " smiled Mrs. Hunt. "She thinks you come over incase she should need any one to run an errand, and therefore permitsherself to adore you. In fact, she told me yesterday, that for ayoung lady you had an uncommon amount of sense!"

"Jim would have said that was as good as a diploma, " Norah said, laughing. 

"I rather think so, myself, " Mrs. Hunt answered. "What about Wally, Norah? Have you heard lately?"

"Yesterday, " Norah replied. "He decorated his letter with beautifulpeople using pen-wipers, so I suppose he is near Ypres. He says he'svery fit. But the fighting seems very stiff. I'm not happy aboutWally. "

"Do you think he isn't well?"

"I don't think his mind is well, " said Norah. "He was better here, before he went back, but now that he is out again I believe he justcan't bear being without Jim. He can't think of him happily, as wedo; he only fights his trouble, and hates himself for being alive. Hedoesn't say so in words, but when you know Wally as well as Dad and Ido, you can tell form his letters. He used to write such cheery, funny letters, and now he deliberately tries to be funny--and it'spretty terrible. "

She paused, and suddenly a little sob came. Mrs. Hunt stroked herhand, saying nothing. 

"Do you know, " Norah said presently, "I think we have lost Wally morethan Jim. Jim died, but the real Jim is ever close in our hearts, andwe never let him go, and we can talk and laugh about him, just as ifhe was here. But the real Wally seems to have died altogether, andwe've only the shell left. Something in him died when he saw Jimkilled. Mrs. Hunt--do you think he'll ever be better?"

"I think he will, " Mrs. Hunt said. "He is too fine and plucky to bealways like this. You have to remember that he is only a boy, andthat he had the most terrible shock that could come to him. It musttake time to recover. "

"I know, " Norah said. "I tried to think like that--but it hurts so, that one can't help him. We would do anything to make him feelbetter. "

"And you will, in time. Remember, you and your father are more to himthan any one else in the world. Make him feel you want him; I thinknothing else can help him so much. " Mrs. Hunt's eyes were full oftears. "He was such a merry lad--it breaks one's heart to think ofhim as he is. "

"He was always the cheerfullest person I ever saw, " said Norah. "Hejust laughed through everything. I remember once when he was bittenby a snake, and it was hours before we could get a doctor. We werenearly mad with anxiety, and he was in horrible pain with thetourniquet, but he joked through it all in the most ridiculous way. And he was always so eager. It's the last thing you could call himnow. All the spring has gone out of him. "

"It will come back, " Mrs. Hunt said. "Only keep on trying--let himsee how much he means to you. "

"Well, he's all we have left, " said Norah. There was silence for amoment; and then it was a relief when the children burst into theroom. 

They all went to the station two days later to see Mrs. Hunt off forher excursion. Michael was not to be depended upon to remain bravewhen a train actually bore his mother away, so they did not wait tosee her go; there were errands to be done in the village, and Norahbundled them all into the governess-cart, giving Geoffrey the reins, to his huge delight. He turned his merry face to his mother. 

"Good-bye, darling! Take care of yourself in London Town!"

"I will, " said his mother. "Mind you take care of all the family. You're in charge, you know, Geoff. "

"Rather!" he said. "I'm G. O. C. , and they've got to do what I tellthem, haven't they? And Mother--tell the Colonel to send Fatherhome. "

"Then you won't be G. O. C. , " said Norah. 

"Don't want to be, if Father comes, " said Geoffrey, his eyes dancing. "You'll tell him, won't you, Mother?"

"Indeed I will, " she said. "Now, off you go. Don't put the cart intothe ditch, Geoff!"

"Isn't you insulting, " said her son loftily. "But womens don'tunderstand!" He elevated his nose--and then relented to fling herkisses as the pony trotted off. Mrs. Hunt stood at the stationentrance to watch him for a moment--sitting very straight and stiff, holding his whip at the precise angle taught by Jones. It was such aheartsome sight that the incoming train took her by surprise, and shehad barely time to get her ticket and rush for a carriage. 

Norah and her charges found so much to do in the village that whenthey reached home it was time for Michael's morning sleep. Evabrooked no interference with her right of tucking him up for thisperiod of peace, but graciously permitted Norah to inspect the processand kiss the rosy cheek peeping from the blankets. Then Alison andGeoffrey accompanied her to the house, and visited Miss de Lisle inher kitchen, finding her by a curious chance, just removing from theoven a batch of tiny cakes of bewildering attractions. Norah lostthem afterwards, and going to look for them, was guided by sound toAllenby's pantry, where that most correct of butlers was found on hishands and knees, being fiercely ridden by both his visitors, when itwas very pleasant to behold Allenby's frantic endeavours to get to hisfeet before Norah should discover him, and yet to avoid upsetting hisriders. Then they called upon Mr. Linton in his study, but findinghim for once inaccessible, being submerged beneath accounts andcheque-books, they fell back upon the billiard-room, where HarryTrevor and Bob McGrath, his chum, welcomed them with open arms, andromped with them until it was time for Norah to take them home todinner. 

"Awful jolly kids, " said Harry. "Why don't you keep them here forlunch, Norah?"

"Eva would be terribly hurt, " said Norah. "She always cookseverything they like best when Mrs. Hunt is away--quite regardless oftheir digestions. "

"Well, can't they come back afterwards? Let's all go for a walksomewhere. "

"Oh, do!" pleaded Geoffrey. "Could we go to the river, Norah?"

"Yes, of course, " said Norah. "Will it be too far for Alison, though?"

"Not it--she walked there with Father when he was home last time. Dolet's. "

"Then we must hurry, " said Norah. "Come along, or Eva will think wehave deserted her. "

They found Eva slightly truculent. 

"I was wonderin' was you stayin' over there to dinner, " she said. "Iknow I ain't one of your fine lady cooks with a nime out of the'Family 'Erald, ' but there ain't no 'arm in that there potato pie, forall that!"

"It looks beautiful, " said Norah, regarding the brown pieaffectionately. "I'm so glad I'm here for lunch. What does Michaelhave, Eva?"

"Michael 'as fish--an' 'e 'as it out in the kitchen with me, " said Evafirmly. "An' 'is own little baby custid-puddin'. No one but me evercooks anythink for that kid. Well, of course, you send 'im cakes an'things, " she added grudgingly. 

"Oh, but they're not nourishment, " said Norah with tact. 

"No, " said Eva brightening. "That's wot I says. An' nourishment iswot counts, ain't it?"

"Oh, rather!" Norah said. "And isn't he a credit to you! Well, comeon, children--I want pie!" She drew Alison's high chair to the table, while Eva, departing to the kitchen, relieved her feelings with aburst of song. 

They spent a merry afternoon at the river--a little stream which wentgurgling over pebbly shallows, widening now and then into a broadpool, or hurrying over miniature rapids where brown trout lurked. Harry and Bob, like most Australian soldiers in England, werethemselves only children when they had the chance of playing withbabies; they romped in the grass with them, swung them on low-growingboughs, or skimmed stones across placid pools, until the sun grew lowin the west, and they came back across the park. Norah wheeledMichael in a tiny car; Bob carried Alison, and presently Geoffreyadmitted that his legs were tired, and was glad to ride home astrideHarry's broad shoulders. Mr. Linton came out to meet them, and theyall went back to the cottage, where Eva had tea ready and was slightlyaggrieved because her scones had cooled. 

"Now, you must all go home, " Norah told her men-folk, after tea. "It's late, and I have to bath three people. "

"Don't we see you again?" Harry asked. 

"You may come over to-night if you like--Dad is coming, " Norah said. "Geoff, you haven't finished, have you?"

"I don't think I'm very hungry, " Geoffrey said. "May I go and shut upmy guinea-pigs?"

"Yes, of course. Alison darling, I don't think you ought to have anymore cakes. "

"I always has free-four-'leven when mother is at home, " said Alisonfirmly, annexing a chocolate cake and digging her little white teethinto it in the hope of averting any further argument. "Michaeldoesn't want more, he had Geoff's. "

"Geoff's? But didn't Geoff eat any?"

"Geoff's silly to-night, " said his sister. "Fancy not bein' hungrywhen there was choc'lit cakes!"

"I hope he didn't get too tired, " Norah said to herself anxiously. "I'll hurry up and get them all to bed. "

She bathed Michael and Alison, with Eva in attendance, and tucked themup. They were very sleepy--too sleepy to be troubled that Mother wasnot there to kiss them good night; indeed, as Norah bent over Michael, he thought she was his mother, and murmured, "Mum-mum, " in the dusk ina little contented voice. Norah put her cheek down to the rose-leafone for a moment, and then hurried out. 

"Geoff! Where are you, Geoff?"

"I'm here, " said Geoffrey, from the back doorstep. He rose and cametowards her slowly. Something in his face made her vaguely uneasy. 

"Ready for bed, old chap?" she asked. "Come on--are you tired?"

"My legs are tired, " Geoffrey said. "And my head's queer. It keepsturning round. " He put out a little appealing hand, and Norah took itin her own. It was burning hot. 

"I--I wish Mother was home, " the boy said. 

Norah sat down and took him on her knee. He put his head against her. 

"You must just let old Norah look after you until Mother comes back, "she said gently. The memory of the fever in the village came to her, and she turned sick with fear. For a moment she thought desperatelyof what she must do both for Geoffrey and for the other children. 

"I won't bath Master Geoff; he is tired, " she said to Eva. Shecarried the little fellow into his room and slipped off his clothes;he turned in the cool sheets thankfully. 

"Lie still, old man; I'll be back in a moment, " Norah said. She wentout and called to Eva, reflecting with relief that the girl's hardCockney sense was not likely to fail her. 

"Eva, " she said, "I'm afraid Master Geoff is ill. You know there isfever in the village, and I think he has it. I mustn't go near anyone, because I've been looking after him. Run over to the house andtell Mr. Linton I would like him to come over--as quickly as possible. Don't frighten him. "

"Right-oh!" said Eva. "I won't be 'arf a tick. "

Her flying feet thudded across the grass as Norah went back to theroom where Geoffrey was already sleeping heavily. She looked down atthe little face, flushed and dry; in her heart an agony of dread forthe Mother, away at her party in London. Then she went outside towait for her father. 

He came quickly, accompanied by Miss de Lisle and Harry Trevor. 

"I telephoned for the doctor directly I got your message, " he said. "He'll be up in a few minutes. "

"Thank goodness!" said Norah. "Of course it may not be the fever. But it's something queer. "

"The little chap wasn't all right down at the river, " Harry said. "Only he kept going; he's such a plucky kid. But he sat jolly quieton me coming home. "

"I knew he was quiet; I just thought he was a bit tired, " Norah said. "I say, Daddy, what about the other children?"

"What about you?" he asked. His voice was hard with anxiety. 

"Me?" said Norah, staring. "Why, of course I must stay with him, Dad. He's in my charge. "

"Yes, I suppose you must, " said David Linton heavily. "We'll find outfrom the doctor what precautions can be taken. "

"Oh, I'll be all right, " Norah said. "But Alison and Michael mustn'tstay here. "

"No, of course not. Well, they must only come to us. "

"But the Tired People?" Norah asked. 

Miss de Lisle interposed. 

"There are hardly any now--and two of the boys go away to-morrow, " shesaid. "The south wing could be kept entirely for the children, couldn't it, Mr. Linton? Katty could look after them there--they arefond of her. "

"That's excellent, " said Mr. Linton. "I really think the risk to thehouse wouldn't be much. Any of the Tired People who were worriedwould simply have to go away. But the children would not come nearany of them; and, please goodness, they won't develop fever at all. "

"Then I'll go back and have a room prepared, " Miss de Lisle said; "andthen I'll get you, Mr. Harry, to help me bundle them up and carry themover. We mustn't leave them in this place a minute longer than we canhelp. That lovely fat Michael!" murmured Miss de Lisle incoherently. She hurried away. 

There was a hum of an approaching motor presently, and the doctor'scar came up the drive. Dr. Hall, a middle-aged and over-worked man, looked over Geoffrey quickly, and nodded to himself, as he tucked histhermometer under the boy's arm. Geoffrey scarcely stirred in hisheavy sleep. 

"Fever of course, " said the doctor presently, out in the hall. "No, Ican't say yet whether he'll be bad or not, Miss Norah. We'll do ourbest not to let him be bad. Mrs. Hunt away, is she? Well, I'll sendyou up a nurse. Luckily I've a good one free--and she will bringmedicines and will know all I want done. " He nodded approval of theirplans for Alison and Michael. Mr. Linton accompanied him to his car. 

"Get your daughter away as soon as you can, " the doctor said. "It's abeastly species of fever; I'd like to hang those tinkers. The childin the village died this afternoon. "

"You don't say so!" Mr. Linton exclaimed. 

"Yes; very bad case from the first. Fine boy, too--but they didn'tcall me in time. Well, this village had forgotten all about fever. "He jumped into the car. "I'll be up in the morning, " he said; andwhirred off into the darkness. 

Alison and Michael, enormously amused at what they took to be a newgame, were presently bundled up in blankets and carried across toHomewood; and soon a cab trundled up with a brisk, capable-lookingnurse, who at once took command in Geoffrey's room. 

"I don't think you should stay, " she said to Norah. "The maid and Ican do everything for him--and his mother will be home to-morrow. Agood hot bath, with some disinfectant in it, here; then leave all yourclothes here that you've worn near the patient, and run home in freshthings. No risk for you then. "

"I couldn't leave Geoff, " Norah said. "Of course I won't interferewith you; but his mother left him to me while she was away. And hemight ask for me. "

"Well, it's only for your own sake I was advising you, " said thenurse. "What do you think, Mr. Linton?"

"I think she ought to stay, " said David Linton shortly--with feartugging at his heart as he spoke. "Just make her take precautions, ifthere are any; but the child comes first--he was left in our care. "

He went away soon, holding Norah very tightly to him for a moment; andthen the nurse sent Norah to bed. 

"There's nothing for you to do, " she said. "I shall have a sleep nearthe patient. "

"But you'll call me if he wants me?"

"Yes--I promise. Now be off with you. "

At the moment Norah did not feel as though she could possibly sleep;but very soon her eyes grew heavy and she dozed off to dream, as sheoften dreamed, that she and Jim were riding over the Far Plain atBillabong, bringing in a mob of wild young bullocks. The cattle hadnever learned to drive, and broke back constantly towards the shelterof the timber behind them. There was one big red beast, inparticular, that would not go quietly; she had half a dozen gallopsafter him in her dream with Bosun under her swinging and turning withevery movement of the bullocks, and finally heading him, wheeling him, and galloping him back to the mob. Then another broke away, and Jimshouted to her, across the paddock. 

"Norah! Norah!"

She woke with a start. A voice was calling her name, hoarsely; shegroped for her dressing-gown and slippers, and ran to Geoffrey's room. The nurse, also in her dressing-gown, was bending over the bed. 

"You're quick, " she said approvingly. "He only called you once. Takethis, now, sonnie. "

"Norah!"

She bent down to him, taking the hot hand. 

"I'm here, Geoff, old man. Take your medicine. "

"All right, " said Geoffrey. He gulped it down obediently and layback. "Will Mother come?"

"Very soon now, " Norah said. "You know she had to be in London--justfor one night. She'll be back to-morrow. "

"It's nearly to-morrow, now, " the nurse said. "Not far off morning. "

"That's nice!" the child said. "Stay with me, Norah. "

"Of course I will, old man. Just shut your eyes and go to sleep; Iwon't go away. "

She knelt by his bed, patting him gently, until his deep breaths toldthat sleep had come to him again. The nurse touched her shoulder andpointed to the door; she got up softly and went out, looking throughher open window at the first streaks of dawn in the east. Her dreamwas still vivid in her mind; even over her anxiety for the child inher care came the thought of it, and the feeling that Jim was verynear now. 

"Jim!" she whispered, gazing at the brightening sky. 

In Germany, at that moment, two hunted men were facing dawn--runningwildly, in dread of the coming daylight. But of that Norah knewnothing. The Jim she saw was the big, clean-limbed boy with whom shehad ridden so often at Billabong. It seemed to her that his laughingface looked at her from the rose and gold of the eastern sky. 

Then Geoffrey turned, and called to her, and she went to him swiftly. 

*****

It was four days later. 

"Mother. " Geoffrey's voice was only a thread of sound now. "WillFather come?"

"I have sent for him, little son. He will come if he can. "

"That's nice. Where's Norah?"

"I'm here, sweetheart. " Norah took the wasted hand in hers, holdingit gently. "Try to go to sleep. "

"Don't go away, " Geoffrey murmured. "I'm awful sleepy. " He halfturned, nestling his head into his mother's arm. Across the bed themother's haggard eyes met Norah's. But hope had almost died fromthem. 

"If he lives through the night there's a chance, " the doctor said toDavid Linton. "But he's very weak, poor little chap. An awful pity;such a jolly kid, too. And all through two abominable families oftinkers! However, there are no fresh cases. "

"Can you do nothing more for Geoffrey?"

The doctor shook his head. 

"I've done all that can be done. If his strength holds out there is abare chance. "

"Would it be any good to get in another nurse?" Mr. Linton asked. "I'm afraid of the mother and Norah breaking down. "

"If they do, we shall have to get some one else, " the doctor answered. "But they wouldn't leave him; neither of them has had any sleep tospeak of since the boy was taken ill. Norah is as bad as Mrs. Hunt;the nurse says that even if they are asleep they hear Geoffrey if hewhispers. I'll come again after a while, Mr. Linton. "

He hurried away, and David Linton went softly into the little thatchedcottage. Dusk was stealing into Geoffrey's room; the blind flutteredgently in the evening breeze. Mrs. Hunt was standing by the windowlooking down at the boy, who lay sleeping, one hand in that of Norah, who knelt by the bed. She smiled up at her father. Mrs. Hunt camesoftly across the room and drew him out into the passage. 

"He may be better if he sleeps, " she said. "He has hardly had anyreal sleep since he was taken ill. "

"Poor little man!" David Linton's voice was very gentle. "He'sputting up a good fight, Mrs. Hunt. "

"Oh, he's so good!" The mother's eyes filled with tears. "He doeseverything we tell him--you know he fought us a bit at first, and thenwe told him he was on parade and we were the officers, and he has doneeverything in soldier-fashion since. I think he even tried to takehis medicine smartly--until he grew too weak. But he never sleepsmore than a few moments unless he can feel one of us; it doesn't seemto matter whether it's Norah or me. "

Geoffrey stirred, and they heard Norah's low voice. 

"Go to sleep, old chap; it's 'Lights Out, ' you know. You mustn't wakeup until Reveille. "

"Has 'Last Post' gone?" Geoffrey asked feebly. 

"Oh yes. All the camp is going to sleep. "

"Is Father?"

"Yes. Now you must go to sleep with him, the whole night long. "

"Stay close, " Geoffrey whispered. His weak little fingers drew herhand against his face. Then no sound came but fitful breathing. 

The dark filled the little room. Presently the nurse crept in with ashaded lamp and touched Norah's shoulder. 

"You could get up, " she whispered. 

Norah shook her head, pointing to the thin fingers curled in her palm. 

"I'm all right, " she murmured back. 

They came and went in the room from time to time; the mother, holdingher breath as she looked down at the quiet face; the nurse, with herkeen, professional gaze; after a while the doctor stood for a longtime behind her, not moving. Then he bent down to her. 

"Sure you're all right?"

Norah nodded. Presently he crept out; and soon the nurse came and satdown near the window. 

"Mrs. Hunt has gone to sleep, " she whispered as she passed. 

Norah was vaguely thankful for that. But nothing was very clear toher except Geoffrey's face; neither the slow passing of the hours norher own cramped position that gradually became pain. Geoffrey's face, and the light breathing that grew harder and harder to bear. Fearcame and knelt beside her in the stillness, and the night crept on. 

CHAPTER XVIII

THE WATCH ON THE RHINE

Evening was closing upon a waste of muddy flats. Far as the eye couldsee there was no rise in the land; it lay level to the skyline, withhere and there a glint of still water, and, further off, flat banksbetween which a wide river flowed sluggishly. If you cared to followthe river, you came at length to stone blockhouses, near whichsentries patrolled the banks--and would probably have turned you backrudely. From the blockhouses a high fence of barbed wire, thicklycriss-crossed, stretched north and south until it became a mere threadof grey stretching over the country. There was something relentless, forbidding, in that savage fence. It was the German frontier. Beyondit lay Holland, flat and peaceful. But more securely than a mountainrange between the two countries, that thin grey fence barred the way. 

If you turned back from the sentries and followed the muddy path alongthe river bank, you were scarcely likely to meet any one. The guardsin the blockhouses were under strict discipline, and were notencouraged to allow friends to visit them, either from the scatteredfarms or from the town of Emmerich, where lights were beginning toglimmer faintly in the twilight. It was not safe for them todisregard regulations, since at any moment a patrol motor-launch mightcome shooting down the river, or a surprise visit be paid by adetachment from the battalion of infantry quartered, for trainingpurposes, at Emmerich. Penalties for lax discipline were severe; theguards were supposed to live on the alert both by day and by night, and the Emmerich commandant considered that the fewer distractionspermitted to the sentries, the more likely they were to make theirwatch a thorough one. There had been too many escapes of prisoners ofwar across the frontier; unpleasant remarks had been made from Berlin, and the Commandant was on his mettle. Therefore the river-bank waspurposely lonely, and any stray figure on it was likely to attractattention. 

A mile from the northern bank a windmill loomed dark against thehorizon; a round brick building, like a big pepper-castor, with fourgreat arms looking like crossed combs. A rough track led to it fromthe main road. Within, the building was divided into several floors, lit by narrow windows. The heavy sails had plied lazily during theday; now they had been secured, and two men were coming down theladder that led from the top. On the ground floor they paused, looking discontentedly at some barrels that were ranged against thewall, loosely covered with sacking. 

"Those accursed barrels are leaking again, " one said, in German. "Look!" He pointed to a dark stain spreading from below. "And Rudolftold me he had caulked them thoroughly. "

"Rudolf does nothing thoroughly--do you not know that?" answered hiscompanion scornfully. "If one stands over him--well and good; if not, then all that Master Rudolf cares for is how soon he may get back tohis beerhouse. Well, they must be seen to in the morning; it is toolate to begin the job to-night. "

"I am in no hurry, " said the first man. "If you would help me I wouldattend to them now. All the stuff may not be wasted. "

"Himmel! I am not going to begin work again at this hour, " answeredthe other with a laugh. "I am not like Rudolf, but I see no enjoymentin working overtime; it will be dark, as it is, before we get toEmmerich. Come on, my friend. "

"You are a lazy fellow, Emil, " rejoined the first man. "However, theloss is not ours, after all, and we should be paid nothing extra fordoing the work to-night. Have you the key?"

"I do not forget it two nights running, " returned Emil. "What luck itwas that the master did not come to-day!--if he had found the millopen I should certainly have paid dearly. "

"Luck for you, indeed, " said his companion. They went out, shuttingand locking the heavy oaken door behind them. Then they took thetrack that led to the main road. 

The sound of their footsteps had scarcely died away when the sackingover one of the barrels became convulsed by an internal disturbanceand fell to the floor; and Jim Linton's head popped up in the opening, like a Jack-in-the box. 

"Come on, Desmond--they've gone at last!" he whispered. 

Desmond's head came up cautiously from another barrel. 

"Take care--it may be only a blind, " he warned. "They may come backat any moment. "

Jim's answer was to wriggle himself out of his narrow prison, slowlyand painfully. He reached the floor, and stood stretching himself. 

"If they come back, I'll meet them with my hands free, " he said. "Come on, old man; we're like rats in a trap if they catch us in thosebeastly tubs. At least, out here, we've our knives and our fists. Come out, and get the stiffness out of your limbs. "

"Well, I suppose we may as well go under fighting if we have to, "Desmond agreed. 

Jim helped him out, and they stood looking at each other. They were asorry-looking pair. Their clothes hung in rags about them; they werebarefoot and hatless, and, beyond all belief, dirty. Thin toemaciation, their gaunt limbs and hollow cheeks spoke of terribleprivations; but their sunken eyes burned fiercely, and there was grimpurpose in their set lips. 

"Well--we're out of the small traps, but it seems to me we're caughtpretty securely in a big one, " Desmond said presently. "How on earthare we going to get out of this pepper-pot?"

"We'll explore, " Jim said. Suddenly his eye fell on a package lyingon an empty box, and he sprang towards it, tearing it open withclaw-like fingers. 

"Oh, by Jove--_food!_" he said. 

They fell upon it ravenously; coarse food left by one of the men, whose beer-drinking of the night before had perhaps been too heavy toleave him with much appetite next day. But, coarse as it was, it waslife to the two men who devoured it. 

It was nearly six weeks since the night when their tunnel had takenthem into the world outside the barbed wire of their prison; six weeksduring which it had seemed, in Desmond's phrase, as though they hadescaped from a small trap to find themselves caught within a big one. They had been weeks of dodging and hiding; travelling by night, trusting to map and compass and the stars; lying by day in woods, inditches, under haystacks--in any hole or corner that should shelterthem in a world that seemed full of cruel eyes looking ceaselessly forthem. Backwards and forwards they had been driven; making a fewmiles, and then forced to retreat for many; thrown out of theircourse, often lost hopelessly, falling from one danger into another. They had never known what it was to sleep peacefully; their food hadbeen chiefly turnips, stolen from the fields, and eaten raw. 

Three times they had reached the frontier; only to be seen by theguards, fired upon--a bullet had clipped Jim's ear--and forced to turnback as the only alternative to capture. What that turning-back hadmeant no one but the men who endured it could ever know. Each timeswift pursuit had nearly discovered them; they had once savedthemselves by lying for a whole day and part of a night in a pond, with only their faces above water in a clump of reeds. 

They had long abandoned their original objective; the point they hadaimed at on the frontier was far too strongly guarded, and after twoattempts to get through, they had given it up as hopeless, and hadstruck towards the Rhine, in faint expectation of finding a boat, andperhaps being able to slip through the sentries. They had reached theriver two nights before, but only to realize that their hope was vain;no boats were to be seen, and the frowning blockhouses barred the wayrelentlessly. So they had struck north, again trying to pierce thefrontier; and the night before had encountered sentries--not menalone, but bloodhounds. The guards had contented themselves withfiring a few volleys--the dogs had pursued them savagely. One Jim hadsucceeded in killing with his knife, the other, thrown off the trailfor a little by a stream down which they had waded, had tracked themdown, until, almost exhausted, they had dashed in through the opendoor of the old mill--for once careless as to any human beings whomight be there. 

The bloodhound had come, too, and in the mill, lit by shafts ofmoonlight through the narrow windows, they had turned to bay. Thefight had not lasted long; they were quick and desperate, and the doghad paid the penalty of his sins--or of the sins of the human bruteswho had trained him. Then they had looked for concealment, findingnone in the mill--the floors were bare, except for the great barrels, half-full of a brown liquid that they could not define. 

"Well, there's nothing for it, " Jim had said. "There's not an inch ofcover outside, and daylight will soon be here. We must empty two ofthese things and get inside. "

"And the dog?" Desmond had asked. 

"Oh, we'll pickle Ponto. "

Together they had managed it, though the barrels taxed all theirstrength to move. The body of the bloodhound had been lowered intothe brown liquid; two of the others had been gradually emptied uponthe earthen floor. With the daylight they had crawled in, drawing thesacking over them, to crouch, half-stifled through the long day, trembling when a step came near, clenching their knives with a sickresolve to sell their freedom dearly. It seemed incredible that theyhad not been discovered; and now the package of food was the laststroke of good luck. 

"Well, blessings on Emil, or Fritz, or Ludwig, or whoever he was, " Jimsaid, eating luxuriously. "This is the best blow-out I've hadsince--well, there isn't any since, there never was anything so goodbefore!"

"Never, " agreed Desmond. "By George, I thought we were done when thatenergetic gentleman wanted to begin overhauling the casks. "

"Me too, " said Jim. "Emil saved us there--good luck to him!"

They finished the last tiny crumb, and stood up. 

"I'm a different man, " Desmond said. "If I have to run to-night, thenthe man that tries to catch me will have to do it with a bullet!"

"That's likely enough, " Jim said, laughing. "Well, come and see howwe're going to get out. "

There seemed little enough chance, as they searched from floor tofloor. The great door was strong enough to resist ten men; thewindows were only slits, far too narrow to allow them to pass through, even had they dared risk the noise of breaking their thick glass. Upand up they went, their hearts sinking as their bodies mounted; seeingno possible way of leaving their round prison. 

"Rats in a trap!" said Desmond. "There's nothing for it but thosebeastly barrels again--and to watch our chance of settling Emil andhis pal when they come to-morrow. "

"Let's look out here, " Jim said. 

They were at the top of the mill, in a little circular place, barelylarge enough for them to stand upright. A low door opened upon a tinyplatform with a railing, from which the great sails could be worked;they were back now, but the wind was rising, and they creaked andstrained at their mooring rope. Far below the silver sheet of theRhine moved sluggishly, gleaming in the moonlight. The blockhousesstood out sharply on either bank. 

"Wonder if they can see us as plainly as we see them, " Jim said. 

"We'll have callers here presently if they can, " Desmond said. "That, at least, is certain. Better come in, Jim. "

Jim was looking at the great sails, and then at the rope that mooredthem. 

"Wait half a minute, " he said. 

He dived into the mill, and returned almost instantly with a smallcoil of rope. 

"I noticed this when we came up, " he said. "It didn't seem longenough to be any use by itself, but if we tie it to this mooring-ropeit might be long enough. "

"To reach the ground from here?" Desmond asked him in astonishment. "Never! You're dreaming, Jim. "

"Not from here, of course, " Jim said. "But from the end of the sail. "

"The sail!" Desmond echoed. 

"If we tie it to the end of the sail's rope, and let the mill go, wecan swing out one at a time, " Jim said. "Bit of a drop at the bottom, of course, but I don't think it would be too much, if we wait till oursail points straight down. "

"But----" Desmond hesitated. "The sail may not bear anyweight--neither may the rope itself. "

"The ropes seem good enough--they're light, but strong, " Jim said. "As for the sail--well, it looks pretty tough; the framework is iron. We can haul on it and test it a bit. I'd sooner risk it than becaught here, old man. "

"Well--I'm going first, " Desmond said. 

"That you're not--it's my own little patent idea, " Jim retorted. "Just you play fair, you old reprobate. Look--they keep a sort ofboathook thing here, to catch the rope when the arm is turning--verythoughtful and handy. You'll easily get it back with that. "

He was knotting the two ropes as he spoke, testing them with all hisstrength. 

"There--that will hold, " he said. "Now we'll let her go. "

He untied the mooring-rope, and very slowly the great sails began torevolve. They tugged violently as the arm bearing the rope mounted, and drew it back; it creaked and groaned, but the rope held, andnothing gave way. Jim turned his face to Desmond on the narrowplatform. 

"I'm off!" he said. "No end of a jolly lark, isn't it? Hold her tillI get on the railing. "

"Jim--if it's too short!"

"Well, I'll know all about that in a minute, " said Jim with a shortlaugh. "So long, old chap: I'll be waiting below, to catch you whenyou bounce!"

He flung his legs over the railing, sitting upon it for an instantwhile he gripped the rope, twining his legs round it. Then he droppedoff, sliding quickly down. Sick with suspense, Desmond leaned over towatch him. 

Down--down he went. The mill-arms rose for a moment, and then checkedas his weight came on them--and slowly--slowly, the great sail fromwhich he dangled came back until it pointed straight downwards, withthe clinging figure hanging far below. Down, until the man abovecould scarcely see him--and then the rope, released, suddenly spranginto the air, and the sails mounted, revolving as if to make up forlost time. On the grass below a figure capered madly. A low, triumphant whistle came up. 

"Oh, thank God!" said Desmond. He clutched the boathook and leanedout, finding that his hands trembled so that the sails went roundthree times before he managed to catch the dangling rope. Then it wasonly a moment before he was on the grass beside Jim. They grinned ateach other. 

"You all right?" Jim asked. 

"Oh, yes. It was pretty beastly seeing you go, though. "

"It was only a ten-foot drop at the end, " said Jim, casting his eye upat the creaking sails. "But it certainly was a nasty moment while onewondered if the old affair would hold. I don't believe it ever wasmade in Germany--it's too well done!"

"Well, praise the pigs we haven't got to tackle those barrels again!"Desmond said. "Come along--we'll try and find a hole in the oldfence. "

They came out of the friendly shadow of the mill and trottednorthwards, bending low as they ran; there was no cover on the flats, and the moonlight was all too clear, although friendly clouds darkenedit from time to time. It was a windy night, with promise of rainbefore morning. 

"Halt! Who goes there?"

The sharp German words rang out suddenly. Before them three soldiersseemed to have risen from the ground with levelled rifles. 

Jim and Desmond gave a despairing gasp, and turned, ducking andtwisting as they fled. Bullets whistled past them. 

"Are you hit?" Jim called. 

"No. Are you?"

"No. There's nothing but the river. "

They raced on madly, their bare feet making no sound. Behind them thepursuit thudded, and occasionally a rifle cracked; not so much in thehope of hitting the twisting fugitives, as to warn the river sentriesof their coming. The Germans were not hurrying; there was no escape, they knew! Father Rhine and his guardians would take care of theirquarry. 

Jim jogged up beside Desmond. 

"We've just a chance, " he said--"if we ever get to the river. You canswim under water?"

"Oh yes. "

"Then keep as close to the bank as you can--the shots may go over you. We'll get as near the blockhouses as we dare before we dive. Keepclose. "

He was the better runner, and he drew ahead, Desmond hard at hisheels. The broad river gleamed in front--there were men with riflessilhouetted against its silver. Then a merciful cloud-bank driftedacross the moon, and the shots whistled harmlessly in the suddendarkness. Jim felt the edge of the bank under his feet. 

"Dive!" he called softly. 

He went in gently and Desmond followed with a splash. The sluggishwater was like velvet; the tide took them gently on, while they swammadly below the surface. 

Shouts ran up and down the banks. Searchlights from the blockhouseslit the river, and the water was churned under a hail of machine-gunbullets, with every guard letting off his rifle into the stream in thehope of hitting something. The bombardment lasted for five minutes, and then the officer in command gave the signal to cease fire. 

"The pity is, " he observed, "that we never get the bodies; the currentsees to that. But the swine will hardly float back to their England!"He shrugged his shoulders. "That being settled, suppose we return tosupper?"

It might have hindered the worthy captain's enjoyment had he been ableto see a mud-bank fifty yards below the frontier, where two drippingmen looked at each other, and laughed, and cried, and wrung eachother's hands, and, in general, behaved like people bereft of reason. 

"Haven't got a scratch, have you, you old blighter?" asked Jimecstatically. 

"Not one. Rotten machine-gun practice, wasn't it? Sure you're allright?"

"Rather! Do you realize you're in Holland?"

"Do you realize that no beastly Hun can come up out of nowhere andtake pot-shots at you?"

"It's not their pot-shots I minded so much, " said Jim. "But to goback to a prison-camp--well, shooting would be a joke to that. Oh, byJove, isn't it gorgeous!" They pumped hands again. 

"Now, look here--we've got to be sober, " Desmond said presently. "Holland is all very well; I've heard it's a nice place for skating. But neither of us has any wish to get interned here. "

"Rather not!" said Jim. "I want to go home and get into uniformagain, and go hunting for Huns. "

"Same here, " said Desmond. "Therefore we will sneak along this riveruntil we find a boat. Go steady now, young Linton, and don't turnhand springs!"

Within the Dutch frontier the Rhine breaks up into a delta ofnavigable streams, on which little brown-sailed cargo-boats plyperpetually; and the skipper of a Dutch cargo-boat will do anythingfor money. A couple of hours' hard walking brought Jim and Desmond toa village with a little pier near which half a dozen boats weremoored. A light showed in a port-hole, and they went softly on deck, and found their way below into a tiny and malodorous cabin. A stoutman sprang to his feet at sight of the dripping scarecrows who invadedhis privacy. 

South Africa had taught Desmond sufficient Dutch to enable him to makehimself intelligible. He explained the position briefly to themariner, and they talked at length. 

"Wants a stiff figure, " he said finally, turning to Jim. "But he says'can do. ' He'll get us some clothes and drop down the river with usto Rotterdam, and find a skipper who'll get us across to Harwich--theGerman navy permitting, of course!"

"The German navy!" said Jim scornfully. "But they're asleep!" Heyawned hugely. "I'm going to sleep, too, if I have to camp on thegentleman's table. Tell him to call me when it's time to change forBlighty!"

CHAPTER XIX

REVEILLE

It was not yet dawn when David Linton, fully dressed, came into thecottage garden. The door stood open, and he kicked off his shoes andcrept into the house. 

Eva sat on the floor of the passage with her head in her hands. Shelooked up with a start as the big man came in, and scrambled to herfeet; a queer dishevelled figure with her tousled head and crumpledcap and apron. A wave of dismay swept over Mr. Linton. 

"Is he----?" he whispered, and stopped. 

The girl beckoned him into the sitting-room. 

"'E's never stirred all night, " she whispered. "I dunno if 'e isn'tdead; I never see any one lie so still. The nurse wouldn't sit therelike a wooden image if 'e was dead, would she, sir?"

"Surely not, " said David Linton. "Where is Miss Norah?"

"Kneelin' alongside of 'im, same like she was when you was here. Sheain't never stirred, neither. An' I'll bet a dollar she must bestiff!"

"And Mrs. Hunt?"

"She's in there, wiv 'em. She 'ad a little sleep; not much. No one'ssaid one word in this 'ouse all night. "

"Why didn't you go to bed?" David Linton said, looking down at thepinched old face and the stooping shoulders. He had never noticed Evavery much; now he felt a sudden wave of pity for the little Londonservant. She loved Geoffrey too in her queer way. 

"Not me!" said Eva defiantly. "And 'im very near dyin'. I beenboilin' the kettle every hour or so, but none of 'em came out for tea. Will _you_ 'ave a cup, sir?"

A refusal was on his lips, but he changed his mind. 

"Thank you, " he said gently. "And have one yourself, Eva. "

"My word, I'll be glad of it, " she said. "It's bitter cold, sittin'out there. " She tip-toed off to the kitchen. Mr. Linton stood, hesitating, for a moment, and then went along the passage. A screenblocked Geoffrey's doorway, and he peeped over it. 

As he did so, Mrs. Hunt moved to the end of the bed. Geoffrey layexactly as he had been on the night before; so utterly still that itwas impossible to say whether he were alive or dead. Norah crouchedbeside him, her hand still against his face. 

Then, very slowly, Geoffrey turned, and opened his eyes. 

"Mother!" he said. "Mother, I'm so thirsty!"

Mrs. Hunt was beside him as his eyelids had lifted. The nurse, movingswiftly, handed her a little cup. 

"Drink this, sweetheart. " The mother raised his head, and Geoffreydrank eagerly. 

"That's awful nice, " he said. "May I have some more?"

They gave him more, and put him back on the pillow. He looked atNorah, who knelt by him silently. 

"Wake up, old Norah--it's Reveille!" he said. 

She smiled at him, and put her face on his, but she did not stir. Suddenly the nurse saw Mr. Linton, and beckoned to him. 

"Carry her--she can't move. "

Norah felt her father's arm about her. 

"Hold round my neck, dear, " he said. 

The nurse was at her other side. They raised her slowly, while sheclenched her teeth to keep back any sound that should tell of theagony of moving--still smiling with her eyes on Geoffrey's sleepyface. Then, suddenly, she grew limp in her father's arm. 

"Fainted, " murmured the nurse. "And a very good thing. " She put herarm round her, and they carried her out between them, and put her on asofa. 

"I must go back to Geoffrey, " the nurse said. "Rub her--rub her kneeshard, before she comes to. It's going to hurt her, poor child!" Shehurried away. 

Geoffrey was lying quietly, his mother's head close to him. The nurseput her hand on his brow. 

"Nice and cool, " she said. "You're a very good boy, Geoff; we'llthink about some breakfast for you presently. " Mrs. Hunt raised herwhite face, and the nurse's professional calmness wavered a little. She patted her shoulder. 

"There--there, my dear!" she said. "He's going to do very well. Don't you worry. He'll be teaching me to ride that pony before weknow where we are. " She busied herself about the boy with defttouches. "Now just keep very quiet--put Mother to sleep, if you like, for she's a tired old mother. " She hastened back to Norah. 

"Is she all right?" David Linton's voice was sharp with anxiety. "Shehas never moved. "

"The best thing for her, " said the nurse, putting him aside andbeginning to massage this new patient. "If I can rub some of thestiffness away before she becomes conscious it will save her a lot. Run away, there's a dear man, and tell that poor soul in the kitchenthat the child is all right. "

"He will live?"

"Rather! That sleep has taken every trace of the fever away. He'sweak, of course, but we can deal with that when there's notemperature. Tell Eva to make tea--lots of it. We all want it. "

"Thus it was that presently might have been seen the astoundingspectacle of a grizzled Australian squatter and a little Cockneyserving-maid holding each other's hands in a back kitchen. 

"I knew it was orright when I 'eard you comin' down the 'all, " saidEva tearfully. "No one's 'ad that sort of a step in this 'ouse sinceMaster Geoff went sick. The dear lamb! Won't it be 'evinly to see'is muddy boot-marks on me clean floor agin! An' him comin' to mekitching window an' askin' me for grub! I'll 'ave tea in a jiffy, sir. An' please 'scuse me for ketchin' old of you like that, but I'd'ave bust if I 'adn't 'eld on to somefink!"

Geoffrey dropped off to sleep again, presently, and Mrs. Hunt came toNorah, who was conscious, and extremely stiff, but otherwise too happyto care for aches and pains. They did not speak at first, those twohad gone down to the borderland of Death to bring back little, wandering feet; only they looked at each other, and clung together, still trembling, though only the shadow of fear remained. 

After that Geoffrey mended rapidly, and, having been saintlike whenvery ill, became just an ordinary little sinner in his convalescence, and taxed every one's patience to keep him amused. Alison andMichael, who were anxiously watched for developing symptoms, refusedto develop anything at all, remaining in the rudest health; so thatthey were presently given the run of all Homewood, and assistedgreatly in preventing any of the Tired People from feeling dull. 

Norah remained at the cottage, which was placed strictly inquarantine, and played with Geoffrey through the slow days of weaknessthat the little fellow found so hard to understand. Aids toconvalescence came from every quarter. Major Hunt, unable to leaveFrance, sent parcels of such toys and books as could still be boughtin half-ruined towns. Wally, who had been given four days' leave inParis--which bored him to death--sent truly amazing packages, and theTired People vied with David Linton in ransacking London for gifts forthe sick-room. Geoffrey thought them all very kind, and would havegiven everything for one hour on Brecon beside Mr. Linton. 

"You'll be able to ride soon, old chap, " Norah said, on his firstafternoon out of bed. 

"Will I?" The boy looked scornfully at his thin legs. "Look atthem--they're like silly sticks!"

"Yes, but Brecon won't mind that. And they'll get quite fat again. Well, not fat--" as Geoffrey showed symptoms of horror--"but hard andfit, like they were before. Quite useful. "

"I do hope so, " Geoffrey said. "I want them to be all right beforeFather comes--and Wally. Will Wally come soon, do you think?"

"I'm afraid not: you see, he has been to Paris. There's hardly anyleave to England now. "

"'Praps leave will be open by Christmas, " Geoffrey suggestedhopefully. "Wouldn't it be a lovely Christmas if Father and Wallyboth came?"

"Wouldn't it just?" Norah smiled at him; but the smile faded in amoment, and she walked to the window and stood looking out. Christmashad always been such a perfect time in their lives: she looked back toyears when it had always meant a season of welcoming Jim back; whenevery day for weeks beforehand had been gay with preparations for hisreturn from school. Jim would arrive with his trunks bulging withsurprises for Christmas morning; Wally would be with him, both keenand eager for every detail in the life of the homestead, just as readyto work as to play. All Billabong, from the Chinese gardener to Mr. Linton, hummed with the joy of their coming. Now, for the first time, Christmas would bring them nothing of Jim. 

She felt suddenly old and tired; and the feeling grew in the weeksthat followed, while Geoffrey gradually came back to strength andmerriment, and the cottage, after a strenuous period of disinfecting, emerged from the ban of quarantine. Alison and Michael had arapturous reunion with their mother and Geoffrey, and Homewood grewstrangely quiet without the patter of their feet. Norah returned toher post as housekeeper, to find little to do; the house seemed to runon oiled wheels, and Miss de Lisle and the servants united in tryingto save her trouble. 

"I dunno is it the fever she have on her, " said Katty in the kitchenone evening. "She's that quiet and pale-looking you wouldn't know herfor the same gerrl. "

"Oh, there's no fear of fever now, " said Miss de Lisle. 

"Well, she is not right. Is it fretting she is, after Masther Jim?She was that brave at first, you'd not have said there was any onedead at all. "

"I think she's tired out, " said Miss de Lisle. "She has been undergreat strain ever since the news of Mr. Jim came. And she is only achild. She can't go through all that and finish up by nursing a feverpatient--and then avoid paying for it. "

"She cannot, indeed, " said Katty. "Why wouldn't the Masther take heraway for a change? Indeed, it's himself looks bad enough these times, as well. We'll have the two of them ill on us if they don't takecare. "

"They might go, " said Miss de Lisle thoughtfully. "I'll suggest it toMr. Linton. "

David Linton, indeed, would have done anything to bring back thecolour to Norah's cheeks and the light into her eyes. But when hesuggested going away she shrank from it pitifully. 

"Ah, no, Daddy. I'm quite well, truly. "

"Indeed you're not, " he said. "Look at the way you never eatanything!"

"Oh, I'll eat ever so much, " said Norah eagerly. "Only don't go away:we have work here, and we wouldn't know what to do with ourselvesanywhere else. Perhaps some time, when Wally comes home, if he caresto go we might think about it. But not now, Daddy. " She hesitated. "Unless, of course, you want to very much. "

"Not unless you do, " he said. "Only get well, my girl. "

"I'm quite all right, " protested Norah. "It was only Geoff's illnessthat made me a bit slack. And we've had a busy summer, haven't we? Ithink our little war-job hasn't turned out too badly, Dad. "

"Not too badly at all--if it hasn't been too much for my housekeeper, "he said, looking at her keenly. "Remember, I won't have her knockedup. "

"I won't be, Daddy dear--I promise, " Norah said. 

She made a brave effort to keep his mind at ease as the days went on;riding and walking with him, forcing herself to sing as she went aboutthe house--she had her reward in the look in the silent man's eyeswhen he first heard a song on her lips--and entering with a goodimitation of her old energy into the plans for the next year on thefarm. But it was all imitation, and in his heart David Linton knewit. The old Norah was gone. He could only pity her with all his bigheart, and help her in her struggle--knowing well that it was for hissake. In his mind he began to plan their return to Australia, in thehope that Billabong would prove a tonic to her tired mind and body. And yet--how could they face Billabong, without Jim?

He came out on the terrace one evening with a letter in his hand. 

"Norah, " he said. "I've good news for you--Wally is coming home. "

"Is he, Dad? On leave?"

"Well--he has been wounded, but not seriously. They have been nursinghim in a hospital at Boulogne and he writes that he is better, but heis to have a fortnight's leave. "

"It will be lovely to have him, " Norah said. "May I see the letter, Dad?"

"Of course. " He gave it to her. "Poor old Wally! We must give him agood time, Norah. "

"It's a pity Harry's leave didn't happen at the same time, " saidNorah. "However, Phil will be a mate for him; they like each otherawfully. "

"Yes, " agreed her father. "Still, I don't think Wally wants any othermate when you are about. "

"They were always astonishingly good in the way they overlooked my badtaste in being a girl!" said Norah, with a laugh. She was running hereye over the letter. "Oh--hit in the shoulder. I do hope it wasn't avery painful wound--poor old boy. I wonder will he be able to ride, Dad?"

"He says he's very well. But then, he would, " Mr. Linton said. "Since we first knew him Wally would never admit so much as afinger-ache if he could possibly avoid it. I expect he'll ride ifit's humanly possible!"

Allenby came out. 

"Hawkins would like to see you, sir. "

"Very well, " said his master. "By the way, Allenby, Mr. Wally iscoming back on leave. "

The butler's face brightened. 

"Is he indeed, sir! That's good news. "

"Yes--he has been wounded, but he's all right. "

"Miss de Lisle will certainly invent a new dish in his honour, sir, "said Allenby, laughing. "Is he coming soon?"

"This week, he says. Well, I mustn't keep Hawkins waiting. " He wentinto the house, with Allenby at his heels. It was evident that thekitchen would hear the news as quickly as the ex-sergeant could getthere. 

Norah read the letter over again, slowly, and folded it up. Then sheturned from the house, and went slowly across the lawn. At the sweepof the drive there was a path that made a short cut across the park toa stile, and her feet turned into it half-unconsciously. 

The dull apathy that had clogged her brain for weeks was suddenlygone. She felt no pleasure in the prospect that would once have beenso joyful, of seeing Wally. Instead her whole being was seething witha wild revolt. Wally's coming had always meant Jim. Now he wouldcome alone, and Jim could never come again. 

"It isn't fair!" she said to herself, over and over. "It isn't fair!"

She came to the stile, and paused, looking over it into a quiet lane. All her passionate hunger for Jim rose within her, choking her. Shehad kept him close to her at first; lately he had slipped away so thatshe had no longer the dear comfort of his unseen presence that hadhelped her through the summer. And she wanted him--wanted him. Hertired mind and body cried for him; always chum and mate and brother inone. She put her head down on the railing with a dry sob. 

A quick step brushed through the crisp leaves carpeting the lane. Shelooked up. A man in rough clothes was coming towards her. 

Norah drew back, wishing she had brought the dogs with her; the placewas lonely, and the evening was closing in. She turned to go; and asshe did so the man broke into a clear whistle that made her pause, catching her breath. It was the marching tune of Jim's regiment; butbeyond the tune itself there was something familiar in thewhistle--something that brought her back to the stile, panting, catching at the rail with her hands. Was there any one else in theworld with that whistle--with that long, free stride?

He came nearer, and saw her for the first time--a white-faced girl whostood and stared at him with eyes that dared not believe--with lipsthat tried to speak his name, and could not. It was Jim who sobbed ashe spoke. 

"Norah! Norah!"

He flung himself over the stile and caught her to him. 

"Old mate!" he said. "Dear little old mate!"

They clung together like children. Presently Norah put up her hand, feeling the rough serge of his coat. 

"It isn't a dream, " she said. "Tell me it isn't, Jimmy-boy. Don'tlet me wake up. "

Jim's laugh was very tender. 

"I'm no dream, " he said. "All these months have been the dream--andyou can wake up now. "

She shivered, putting her face against him. 

"Oh--it's been so long!"

Then, suddenly, she caught his hand. 

"Come!" she said breathlessly. "Come quickly--to Dad!"

They ran across the park, hand in hand. Near the house Jim paused. 

"I say, old chap, we can't take him by surprise, " he said. "I wasgoing to sneak in by the back door, and get hold of Miss de Lisle andAllenby, to tell you. Hadn't you better go and prepare him a bit?"

"Yes, of course, " Norah said. "There's a light in the study: he'salways there at this time. Come in and I'll hide you in Allenby'spantry until I ring. "

They crept in by a side door, and immediately ran into the butler. 

"How are you, Allenby?" Jim inquired pleasantly. 

Allenby staggered back. 

"It's Mr. Jim!" he gasped, turning white. 

"It is, " said Jim, laughing. He found the butler's hand, and shookit. Norah left them, and went swiftly to her father's study. Sheopened the door softly. 

David Linton was sitting in a big armchair by the fire, bendingforward and looking into the red coals. The light fell on his face, and showed it old and sad with a depth of sadness that even Norah hadhardly seen. He raised his head as the door opened. 

"Hallo, my girl, " he said, forcing a smile. "I was just beginning towonder where you were. "

"I went across the park, " Norah said nervously. Something in hervoice made her father look sharply at her. 

"Is anything the matter, Norah?"

"No, " she said quickly. She came close to him and put her hand on hisshoulder. 

"You look as if you had seen a ghost, " he said. "What is it, Norah?"

"I--I thought I had, too, " she stammered. "But it was better than aghost. Daddy--Daddy!" she broke down, clinging to him, laughing andcrying. 

"What is it?" cried David Linton. "For God's sake tell me, Norah!"He sprang to his feet, shaking. 

"He's here, " she said. "He isn't dead. " Suddenly she broke from himand ran to the bell. "Jim, " she said; "Jim has come back to us, Daddy. "

The door was flung open, and Jim came in, with great strides. 

"Dad!"

"My boy!" said his father. They gripped each other's hands; and Norahclung to them both, and sobbed and laughed all at once. 

"Let me sit down, children, " said David Linton presently; and they sawthat he was trembling. "I'm getting an old man, Jim; I didn't knowhow old I was, until we lost you. "

"You couldn't get old if you tried, " said Jim proudly. "And you can'tlose me either--can he, Norah?" They drew together again; it seemedcomplete happiness just to touch each other--not to speak; to betogether. Afterwards there would be explanations; but they seemed thelast thing that mattered now. 

They did not hear the hoot of a motor in the drive or a ring at thefront door. Allenby answered it, and admitted a tall subaltern. 

"Mr. Wally!"

"Evening, Allenby, " said Wally. "I believe I'm a bit ahead of time--Ididn't expect to get here so soon. Do you think they'll have a cornerfor me?"

Allenby laughed--a rather quavering laugh. 

"I think you'll always find your room ready, sir, " he said. "You--Isuppose you 'aven't 'eard our good news, sir?"

"I never hear good news, " said Wally shortly. "What is it?"

Allenby eyed him doubtfully. 

"I don't know as I oughtn't to break it to you a bit, sir, " he said. "You can't be over-strong yet, and you wounded, and all; and never'aving rightly got over losing Mr. Jim, and----"

Wally shuddered. 

"For Heaven's sake, man, stop breaking it gently!" he said. "What isit?" In his voice was the crisp tone of the officer; and theex-sergeant came to attention smartly. 

"It's Mr. Jim, sir, " he said. "'E's 'ome. "

For a long moment Wally stared at him. 

"You're not mad, I suppose?" he said slowly. "Or perhaps I am. Doyou mean----"

"Them 'Uns couldn't kill him, sir!" Allenby's voice rose on a note oftriumph. "Let me take your coat, sir--'e's in the study. And youcoming just puts the top on everything, sir!"

He reached up for Wally's coat. But the boy broke from him and ranblindly to the study, bursting in upon the group by the fire. Therehe stopped dead, and stared at them. 

"Old chap!" said Jim. He sprang to him, and flung an arm round hisshoulders. Then he gave a great sigh of utter contentment, and echoedAllenby unconsciously. 

"Well, if that doesn't make everything just perfect!" he said. 

CHAPTER XX

ALL CLEAR

"Kiddie, are you awake?"

"Come in, Jimmy. "

Norah sat up in bed and felt for the electric switch. The room spranginto light as Jim came in. 

"I had to come and bring your stocking, " he said. "Merry Christmas, little chap. "

"Merry Christmas, Jimmy dear. " Norah looked at the bulging stockingon her bed, and broke into laughter. "And you a full-blown Captain!Oh, Jimmy, are you ever going to grow up?"

"I trust not, " said Jim comfortably--"if it means getting any biggerthan I am. But you're not, either, so it doesn't matter. Do youremember all the Christmases at Billabong when I had to bring you yourstocking?"

"Do I remember!" echoed Norah scornfully. "But at Billabong it wasdaylight at four o'clock in the morning, and extremely hot--probablywith a bush-fire or two thrown in. You'll be frozen to death here. Turn on the electric stove, and we'll be comfy. "

"That's a brain-wave, " said Jim, complying. "I must admit I prefer anopen fireplace and three-foot logs--but in a hurry those littlecontraptions of stoves are handy. Hold on now--I'll get you somethingto put over your shoulders. "

"There's a woolly jacket over there, " Norah said. "Let me have myproperty--I'm excited. " She possessed herself of the stocking andfished for its contents. "Chocolates!--and in war-time! Aren't youashamed?"

"Not much, " said Jim calmly, extracting a huge chocolate from the box. "I lived on swede turnips for six weeks, so I think the familydeserves a few extras. Fish some more. "

Norah obeyed, and brought to light articles of a varied nature; a pairof silk stockings, a book on _Housekeeping as a Science_, a largeturnip, artistically carved, a box of French candied fruit, a mob-capand a pair of housemaids' gloves, and, lastly, the cap of a shell, neatly made into a pin-tray. 

"I did that in camp in Germany, " said Jim. "And I swore I'd put itinto your Christmas stocking. Which I have done. "

"Bless you, " said Norah. "I would rather lose a good many of mypossessions than that. " They smiled at each other; and, being anundemonstrative pair, the smile was a caress. 

"Isn't this going to be a Christmas!" Norah said. "I've been lyingawake for ever so long, trying to realize it. You alive again----"

"I never was dead, " said Jim indignantly. 

"It was a horribly good imitation. And Wally here, and even Harry;and Major Hunt home; and Geoff getting stronger every day. And Dadgrown twenty years younger. "

"And you too, I guess--judging by what you looked like the night Icame home. "

"Oh, I've got turned and made up to look like new, " said Norah. Shefaltered a little. "Jimmy, I've been saying my prayers--_hard_. "

"I've done that, too, " said Jim. There was a long, contented silence. 

"And somehow, now, I know you'll be all right--both of you, " Norahsaid. "I just feel certain about it. Before--ever since the warbegan--I was always horribly afraid, but now I'm not afraid any more. It can't last for ever; and some day we'll all go back. "

"And that will be the best thing in the world, " said Jim. 

"The very best, " she said. 

Some one tapped at the door. 

"May I come in?" asked Miss de Lisle's voice. She entered, bearing alittle tray. 

"You!" said Norah. "But you shouldn't. "

"Bride and Katty have gone to church, so I thought I'd bring you sometea and wish you a merry Christmas, " said Miss de Lisle. "But Ididn't expect to find the Captain here. " She did not wait for theirgreetings, but vanished with the elephantine swiftness peculiar toher; returning in a few moments with a second tray. 

"And toast!" said Jim. "But where's your own, Miss de Lisle?"

"Never mind mine--I'll have it in the kitchen, " said the cook-lady. 

"Indeed, you will not. Sit down. " He marched off, unheeding herprotests. When he returned, he bore a large kitchen tray, with theteapot. 

"It seemed simpler, " he said. "And I couldn't find anything smaller. This cup is large, Miss de Lisle, but then you won't want it filled sooften. Have some of my toast--I couldn't possibly eat all this. "

"Well, it's very pleasant here, " said the cook-lady, yielding meekly. "I took some to Mr. Wally, but he merely said, 'Get out, Judkins; I'mnot on duty!' and rolled over. So I concluded, in Katty's words, that'his resht was more to him, ' and came away. "

"He'll wake up presently and be very pleased to find it; it won'tmatter to him at all if it's stone-cold, " said Jim. "Queer chap, Wal. I prefer tea with the chill off it, myself. Judkins has hard timesgetting him up in time for early parade. Luckily Judkins is an oldregular soldier, and has a stern, calm way with a young officer. "

"Who bullies _you_ into getting up, may I ask?" demanded Miss deLisle. 

"I used to be bullied by a gentleman called Wilkes, in the grey dayswhen I was a subaltern, " said Jim sadly. "Now, alas, I am aresponsible and dignified person, and I have to set an example. " Hesighed. "It's awful to be a captain!"

"It's so extraordinary, " said his sister, "that I never get used toit. "

"But you never had any respect for age, " said Jim, removing her trayand putting a pillow on her head. "Every one finished? then I'llclear away the wreck and go and dress. " He piled the three trays ontop of each other and goose-stepped from the room solemnly--his longlegs in pyjamas, under a military great coat, ending a curious effectto the spectacle. Miss de Lisle and Norah laughed helplessly. 

"And a captain!" said the cook-lady, wiping her eyes. "Now I reallymust run, or there will be no breakfast in this house. "

Breakfast was a movable feast in the Home for Tired People, whowandered in and out just as they felt inclined. Hot dishes sat on ahot-water plate and a little aluminium-topped table; such matters asham and brawn lurked on a sideboard; and Allenby came in from time totime to replenish tea and coffee. Norah and her father rarelyencountered any one but Phil Hardress at this meal, since theirs wasgenerally over long before most of their guests had decided to get up. On this morning, however, every one was equally late, and food did notseem to matter; the table was "snowed under" with masses of lettersand Christmas parcels, and as every one opened these and talked all atonce, mingling greetings with exclamations over the contents of thepackages, Miss de Lisle's efforts had been in vain. 

"I pitied your post-lady, " said Mrs. Aikman, the wife of a woundedcolonel. "She staggered to the door under an enormous mail-bag, looking as though Christmas were anything but merry. However, I sawher departing, after an interval, with quite a sprightly step. "

"Allenby had orders to look after her, " Norah said, smiling. "Poorsoul--she begins her round at some unearthly hour and she's hungry andtired by the time she gets here. "

"One of the remarkable things about this country of yours, " said Mr. Linton, "is the way you have continued to deliver parcels and lettersas though there were no war. Strange females or gaunt children bringthem to one's door, but the main point is that they do come. InAustralia, even without a war, the post-office scorns to deliver aparcel; if any one is rash enough to send you one the post-office putsit in a cupboard and sends you a cold postcard to tell you to come andtake it away. If you don't come soon, they send you a threateningcard. "

"And if you don't obey that?"

"I never dared to risk a third, " said Mr. Linton, laughing. "I am aman of peace. "

"But what a horrible system!" said Mrs. Aikman. "Doesn't it interferewith business?"

"Oh yes, greatly, " said her host. "But I suppose we shall learn, intime. "

"I'm going over to the cottage, " Norah whispered to Jim. "Docome--Geoff won't think it's Christmas if you don't. "

They went out into the hall. Flying feet came down the stairs, andWally was upon them. 

"Merry Christmas, Norah!" He seized both her hands and pranced herdown the hall. "Always begin Christmas with a turkey-trot!" hechanted. 

"Begin, indeed!" said Norah, with a fine contempt. "I began minehours ago. Where have you been?"

"I have been--contemplating, " said Wally, his brown eyes twinkling. "No one called me. "

"There's evidence to the contrary, " Jim said, grinning. "It has beenstated that you called a perfectly blameless lady Judkins, and saidawful things to her. "

"My Aunt!" said Wally. "I hope not--unless you talk pretty straightto Judkins he doesn't notice you. That accounts for the frozen teaand toast I found; I thought Father Christmas had put 'em there. "

"Did you eat them?"

"Oh, yes--you should never snub a saint!" said Wally. "So now I don'twant any breakfast. Where are you two going?"

"To the cottage. Come along--but really, I do think you should eat adecent breakfast, Wally. "

"It will be dinner-time before we know where we are--and I feel thatMiss de Lisle's dinner will be no joke, " said Wally. "So come along, old house mother, and don't worry your ancient head about me. " Eachboy seized one of Norah's hands and they raced across the lawn. DavidLinton, looking at them from the dining-room window, laughed a little. 

"Bless them--they're all babies again!" he thought. 

The cottage was echoing with strange sounds; it might be inferred thatthe stockings of the young Hunts had contained only bugles, trumpetsand drums. Eva, sweeping the porch, greeted the newcomers with afriendly grin. 

"Merry Christmas, Eva!"

"The sime to you, " said Eva. "Ain't it a real cold morning? Thefrorst's got me fingers a fair treat. "

"No one minds frost on Christmas Day--it's the proper thing in thisqueer country!" said Wally. "Was Father Christmas good to you, Eva?"

"Wasn't 'e! Not 'arf!" said Eva. "The children wouldn't 'ear ofanyfink but 'angin' up a stockin' for me--and I'm blowed if it wasn'tbang full this mornin'. And a post-card from me young man from theFront; it's that saucy I wonder 'ow it ever passed the sentry! Well, I do say as 'ow this place ain't brought us nuffink but luck!"

Geoffrey dashed out, equipped with a miniature Sam Brown belt with asword, and waving a bugle. 

"Look! Father Christmas brought them! Merry Christmas, everybody. "He flung himself at Norah, with a mighty hug. 

"And where's my Michael--and that Alison?" Norah asked. "Oh, Michael, darling, aren't you the lucky one!" as he appeared crowned with apaper cap and drawing a wooden engine. "Where's Alison?"

"It's no good ever _speaking_ to Alison, " Geoffrey said, with scorn. "She got a silly doll in her stocking, and all she'll do is to sit onthe floor and take off its clothes. Girls are stupid--all 'cept you, Norah!"

"Keep up that belief, my son, and you'll be spared a heap of trouble, "said Major Hunt, coming out. "Unfortunately, you're bound to changeyour mind. How are you all? We've had an awful morning!"

"It began at half-past four, " Mrs. Hunt added. "At that hour Michaeldiscovered a trumpet; and no one has been asleep since. "

"They talk of noise at the Front!" said her husband. "Possibly I'vegot used to artillery preparation; anyhow, it strikes me as a smallthing compared to my trio when they get going with assorted musicalinstruments. How is your small family, Miss Norah?"

"Not quite so noisy as yours--but still, you would notice they werethere!" Norah answered, laughing. "They were all at breakfast when Ileft, and it seemed likely that breakfast would run on to dinner, unless they remembered that church is at eleven. I must run home; wejust came to wish you all a merry Christmas. Dinner at half-past one, remember!"

"We won't forget, " Mrs. Hunt said. 

Every one was dining at Homewood, and dinner, for the sake of thechildren, was in the middle of the day. The house was full of guests;they trooped back from church across the park, where the ground ranghard as iron underfoot, for it was a frosty Christmas. Homewoodglowed with colour and life--with big fires blazing everywhere, andholly and ivy scarlet and green against the dark oaken panelling ofthe walls. And if the Australians sent thoughts overseas to a redhomestead--Billabong, nestling in its green of orchard and garden, with scorched yellow paddocks stretching away for miles aroundit--they were not homesick thoughts to-day. For home was in theirhearts, and they were together once more. 

The dinner was a simple one--Miss de Lisle had reserved her finestinspirations for the evening meal, regarding Christmas dinner as amere affair of turkey and blazing plum-pudding, which, except in thematter of sauces, might be managed by any one. "It needs no soul!"she said. But no one found any fault, and at the end Colonel Aikmanmade a little speech of thanks to their hosts. "We all know they hatespeeches made at them, " he finished. "But Homewood is a blessed wordto-day to fighting men. "

"And their wives, " said Mrs. Aikman. 

"Yes--to people who came to it tired beyond expression; and went backforgetting weariness. In their names--in the names of all of us--wewant to say 'Thank you. '"

David Linton stood up, looking down the long room, and last, at hisson. 

"We, who are the most thankful people in the world, I think, to-day, "he said, "do not feel that you owe us any gratitude. Rather we owe itto all our Tired People--who helped us through our own share of whatwar can mean. And, apart from that, we never feel that the work isours. We carry on for the sake of a dead man--a man who loved hiscountry so keenly that to die for it was his highest happiness. Weare only tools, glad of war-work so easy and pleasant as our guestsmake our job. But the work is John O'Neill's. So far as we can, wemean to make it live to his memory. "

He paused. Norah, looking up at him, saw him through misty eyes. 

"So--we know you'll think of us kindly after we have gone back toAustralia, " the deep voice went on. "There will be a welcome there, too, for any of you who come to see us. But when you rememberHomewood, please do not think of it as ours. If that brave soul canlook back--as he said he would, and as we are sure he does--then he ishappy over every tired fighter who goes, rested, from his house. Hisonly grief was that he could not fight himself. But his work in thewar goes on; and as for us, we simply consider ourselves very lucky tobe his instruments. "

Again he paused. 

"I don't think this is a day for drinking toasts, " he said. "When wehave won we can do that--but we have not won yet. But I will ask youall to drink to a brave man's memory--to John O'Neill. "

The short afternoon drew quickly to dusk, and lights flashed out--tobe discreetly veiled, lest wandering German aircraft should wish todrop bombs as Christmas presents. Norah and the boys had disappearedmysteriously after dinner, vanishing into the study. PresentlyGeoffrey came flying to his mother, with eager eyes. 

"Mother! Father Christmas is here!"

"You don't say so!" said Mrs. Hunt, affecting extreme astonishment. "Where?"

"I saw him run along the hall and go into the study. He was real, Mother!"

"Of course he's real, " Major Hunt said. "Do you think he's gone upthe study chimney?"

Wally appeared in the doorway. 

"Will the ladies and gentlemen kindly walk into the study?" he saidsolemnly. "We have a distinguished guest. "

"There! I _told_ you, " said Geoffrey ecstatically. He tugged at hisfather's hand, capering. 

In the study a great fir-tree towered to the ceiling; a Christmas-treeof the most beautiful description, gay with shining coloured globesand wax lights and paper lanterns; laden with mysterious packages inwhite paper, tied with ribbon of red, white and blue, and with otherthings about which there was no mystery--clockwork toys, field gunsand ambulance wagons, and a big, splendid Red Cross nurse, difficultto consider a mere doll. Never was seen such a laden tree; it'sbranches groaned under the weight they bore. And beside it, who butFather Christmas, bowing and smiling with his eyes twinkling underbushy white eyebrows. 

"Walk in, ladies and gentleman, walk in!" he said invitingly. 

Wally frowned at him. 

"That's not the way to talk, " he said. "You aren't a shop-walker!"He inflicted a surreptitious kick upon the elderly saint. 

"Hi, you blighter, that's my shin!" said Father Christmas wrathfully;a remark luckily unheard by the guests in the excitement of themoment. 

All the household was there; Miss de Lisle beaming at Wally and verystately and handsome in blue silk; the servants, led by Allenby, withCon and Katty and Bride giggling with astonishment at a tree the likeof which did not grow in Donegal. 

"All mustered?" said Father Christmas. "Right oh! I mean, that iswell. As you see, I've had no end of a time labouring in your behalf. But I love hard work!" (Interruption from Mr. Meadows, sounding like"I _don't_ think!") "Being tired, I shall depute to my dear youngfriend here the task of removing the parcels from the tree. " Hetapped Wally severely on the head with his knuckles, and that haplessyouth ejaculated, "Beast!". "You'll get thrown out, if you don'twatch it!" said the saint severely. "Now--ladies first!"

He detached the Red Cross nurse from her bough and placed her inAlison's arms; and Alison, who had glued her eyes to her from themoment of entering the room, uttered a gasp, sat promptly upon thefloor, and began an exhaustive examination of her charms, unheedingany further gifts. Under the onslaught of Wally and Harry the treespeedily became stripped of its burden; Father Christmas directingtheir labours in a voice that plainly had its training on thebarrack-square. Eva watched him admiringly. 

"Ain't the Captin a trick!" she murmured, hugging her parcels to her. 

The last package came down, and Father Christmas slipped away, disappearing behind a screen with a flourish that revealed animmaculate brown leather gaiter under the cotton-wool snow borderinghis red cloak; and presently Jim sauntered out, slightly flushed. 

"Oh, you silly!" said Geoffrey. "Where _ever_ have you been? You'vemissed ole Father Christmas!"

"I never did have any luck, " Jim said dolefully. 

"Never mind--he's left heaps and heaps of parcels for you. I'll helpyou open them, " said Geoffrey kindly. 

The gong summoned them to tea; and afterwards it was time to take thechildren home, happy and sleepy. Jim tossed Alison up on hisshoulder, and, with Geoffrey clinging to his other hand, and Michaelriding Wally pick-a-back, Norah and the boys escorted the Hunts backto the cottage. 

"You're coming over again, of course?" Jim said. "We're going todance to-night. "

"Oh yes; we're getting a terribly frivolous old couple, " said Mrs. Hunt, laughing. "But Christmas leave only comes once a year, especially when there's a war on!"

"I think she needs a rest-cure!" said her husband, knitting his browsover this remarkable statement. "Come in and lie down for awhile, oryou won't be coherent at all by to-night; Eva and I will put thebabies to bed. "

"Can't I help?" Norah asked. 

"No--you're off duty to-night. You've really no idea how handy I am!"said Major Hunt modestly. 

"Then we'll see you later on, " Norah said, disentangling Michael fromher neck. "Good-night, Michael, darling; and all of you. "

"We've had a lovely time!" Geoffrey said. 

"I'm so glad, " Norah said, smiling at him. The cottage-door closed, and they turned back. 

"I've had a lovely time, too!" she said. "There never was such aChristmas!"

"Never!" Jim said. "I believe that five months in Germany was worthit. "

"No!" said Wally sharply. 

"No, it wasn't, " Norah agreed. "But now--it helps one to forget. "

They came slowly across the frozen lawn. Before them Homewood loomedup, little beams of warm light coming from its shuttered windows. Then the door opened wide, letting out a flood of radiance; and in itstood David Linton, looking out for them. They came into the path oflight; Norah between the two tall lads. His voice was tender as helooked down at their glowing faces. 

"It's cold, " he said. "Come in to the fire, children. "

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Notes: possible errors in original text that I have left intact andsome notes on things that might look wrong but I think they areactually correct. 

1) reading about, " said Wally. "Do you remember, Jim, how old poor old -> the first old should probably be omitted

2) know I ain't one of your fine lady cooks with a nime out of the -> nime occurs elsewhere in the text as well and indicates an accent

3) and became extraordinarily skilful in the use of chisel and plane. -> skilful with one 'l' is valid British spelling

4) him to instal her before we get to Homewood on Thursday. Hawkins has -> instal with one 'l' is valid British spelling