BACK TO BILLABONG

By Mary Grant Bruce

1921

 "Beyond the distant sky-line (Now pansy-blue and clear), We know a land is waiting, A brown land, very dear: A land of open spaces, Gaunt forest, treeless plain: And if we once have loved it We must come back again. "

 (Dorothea Mackellar. )

CONTENTS

CHAP. 

I. LANCASTER GATE, LONDON, W

II. THE RAINHAMS

III. PLAYING TRUANT

IV. COMING HOME

V. THE TURN OF FORTUNE'S WHEEL

VI. SAILING ORDERS

VII. THE WATCH DOGS

VIII. HOW TOMMY BOARDED A STRANGE TAXI

IX. THE WELCOME OF AUSTRALIA

X. BILLABONG

XI. COLONIAL EXPERIENCES

XII. ON INFLUENZA AND FURNITURE

XIII. THE HOME ON THE CREEK

XIV. THE CUNJEE RACES

XV. HOW WALLY RODE A RACE

XVI. BUILDING UP AGAIN

BACK TO BILLABONG

CHAPTER I

LANCASTER GATE, LONDON, W

"Do the beastly old map yourself, if you want it. I shan't, anyhow!"

"Wilfred!"

"Aw, Wil-fred!" The boy at the end of the schoolroom table, red-haired, snub-nosed and defiant, mimicked the protesting tone. "I've done itonce, and I'm blessed if I do it again. "

"No one would dream that it was ever meant for Africa. " The youngteacher glanced at the scrawled and blotted map before her. "It--itdoesn't look like anything earthly. You must do it again, Wilfred. "

"Don't you, Wilf. " Wilfred's sister leaned back in her chair, tilting iton its hind legs. 

"You have nothing to do with Wilfred's work, Avice. Go on with yourFrench. "

"Done it, thanks, " said Avice. "And I suppose I can speak to my ownbrother if I like. "

"No, you can't--in lesson time, " said the teacher. 

"Who's going to stop me?"

Cecilia Rainham controlled herself with an effort. 

"Bring me your work, " she said. 

She went over the untidy French exercise with a quick eye. When she hadfinished it resembled a stormy sky--a groundwork of blue-black, blottedwriting, lit by innumerable dashes of red. Cecilia put down her redpencil. 

"It's hopeless, Avice. You haven't tried a bit. And you know it isn'thard--you did a far more difficult piece of translation without amistake last Friday. "

"Yes, but the pantomime was coming off on Saturday, " said Wilfred, witha grin. "Jolly little chance of tickets from Bob if she didn't!"

"You shut up!" said Avice. 

"Be quiet, both of you, " Cecilia ordered, a spot of red in each palecheek. "Remember, there will be other Saturdays. Bob will do nothing foryou if I can't give him a decent report of you. " It was the threat shehated using, but without it she was helpless. And the red-haired pairbefore her knew to a fraction the extent of her helplessness. 

For the moment the threat was effective. Avice went back to her seat, taking with her the excited-looking French exercise, while Wilfredsullenly recommenced a dispirited attack upon the African coastline. Cecilia leaned back in her chair, and took up a half-knitted sock--todrop it hastily, as a long-drawn howl came from a low chair by thewindow. 

"Whatever is the matter, Queenie?"

"I per-ricked my finger, " sobbed the youngest Miss Rainham. She stoodup, tears raining down her plump cheeks. No one, Cecilia thought, evercried so easily, so copiously, and so frequently as Queenie. As shestood holding out a very grubby forefinger, on which appeared a minutespot of blood, great tears fell in splashes on the dark green linoleum, while others ran down her face to join them, and others trembled on herlower eyelids, propelled from some artesian fount within. 

"Oh, dry up, Queenie!" said Wilfred irritably. "Anyone 'ud think you'dcut your silly finger off!"

"Well--it'th bleed-in'!" wailed Queenie. She dabbed the injured memberwith the pillow case she was hemming, adding a scarlet touch in pleasantcontrast to its prevailing grime. 

"Well--you're too big a girl to cry for a prick, " said Cecilia wearily. "People who are nearly seven really don't cry except for somethingawfully bad. "

"There--I'll tell the mater you said awfully!" Avice jeered. "Who bitesour heads off for using slang, I'd like to know?"

"You wouldn't have much head left if I bit for every slang word youuse, " retorted her half-sister. "Do get on with your French, Avice--it'snearly half-past twelve, and you know Eliza will want to lay the tablepresently. Come here, Queenie. " She took the pillow case, and unpickeda few stitches, which clearly indicated that the needle had been takinggiant strides. "Just hem that last inch or two again, and see if youcan't make it look nice. I believe the needle only stuck into yourfinger because you were making it sew so badly. Have you got ahandkerchief?--but, of course, you haven't. " She polished the fat, tear-stained cheek with her own. "Now run and sit down again. "

Queenie turned to go obediently enough--she was too young, and possiblytoo fat, to plan, as yet, the deliberate malice in which her brother andsister took their chief pleasure. Unfortunately, Wilfred arrived at theend of Africa at the wrong moment for her. He pushed the atlas away fromhim with a jerk that overturned the ink bottle, sending a stream of inktowards Avice--who, shoving her chair backwards to escape the deluge, cannoned into Queenie, and brought her headlong to the floor. Howlsbroke out anew, mingled with a crisp interchange of abuse between theelder pair, while Cecilia vainly sought to lessen the inky flood with aduster. Upon this pleasant scene the door opened sharply. 

"A nice way you keep order at lessons, " said Mrs. Mark Rainham acidly. "And the ink all over the cloth. Well, all I can say is, you'll pay fora new one, Cecilia. "

"I did not knock it over, " said Cecilia, in a low tone. 

"It's your business to look after the children, and see that they do notdestroy things, " said her stepmother. 

"The children will not obey me. "

"Pouf!" said Mrs. Rainham. "A mere question of management. High-spiritedchildren want tact in dealing with them, that is all. You nevertrouble to exercise any tact whatever. " Her eyes dwelt fondly on herhigh-spirited son, whose red head was bent attentively over Africawhile he traced a mighty mountain range along the course of the Nile. "Wilfred, have you nearly finished your work?"

"Nearly, Mater, " said the industrious Wilfred, manufacturing mountainstirelessly. "Just got to stick in a few more things. "

"Say 'put, ' darling, not 'stick. ' Cecilia, you might point out thoselittle details--that is, if you took any interest in their English. "

"Thethilia thaid 'awfully' jutht now, " said Queenie, in a shrill pipe. 

"I don't doubt it, " said Mrs. Rainham, bitterly. "Of course, anyonebrought up in Paris is too grand to trouble about English--but we thinka good deal of these things in London. " A little smile hovered onher thin lips, as Cecilia flushed, and Avice and her brother grinnedbroadly. The Mater could always make old Cecilia go as red as abeetroot, but it was fun to watch, especially when the sport beguiledthe tedium of lessons. 

A clatter of dishes on a tray heralded the approach of Eliza. 

"It is time the table was clear, " Mrs. Rainham said. "Wilfred, darling, I want you to post a letter. Put up your work and get your cap. Cecilia, you had better try to clean the cloth before lunch; it is ruined, ofcourse, but do what you can with it. I will choose another the next timeI am in London. And just make sure that the children's things are all inorder for the dancing lesson this afternoon. Avice, did you put out yourslippers to be cleaned?"

"Forgot all about it, Mater, " said Avice cheerfully. 

"Silly child--and it is Jackson's day off. Just brush them up for her, Cecilia. When the children have gone this afternoon, I want you to seeto the drawing-room; some people are coming in to-night, and there arefresh flowers from Brown's to arrange. "

Cecilia looked up, with a sudden flush of dismay. The children's dancinglesson gave her one free afternoon during the week. 

"But--but I am going to meet Bob, " she stammered. 

"Oh, Bob will wait, no doubt; you need not keep him long, if you hastenyourself. Yes, Eliza, you can have the table. " Mrs. Rainham left theroom, with the children at her heels. 

Cecilia whisked the lesson books hastily away; Eliza was waiting with alowering brow, and Eliza was by no means a person to be offended. Maidswere scarce enough in England in the months after the end of thewar; and, even in easier times, there had been a dreary processionof arriving and departing servants in the Rainham household--thehigh-spirited characteristics of the children being apt to pall quicklyupon anyone but their mother. In days when there happened to be noEliza, it was Cecilia who naturally inherited the vacant place, addingthe duties of house-maid to those of nurse, governess, companion andgeneral factotum; all exacting posts, and all of them unpaid. As Mrs. Rainham gracefully remarked, when a girl was not earning her own living, as so many were, but was enjoying the comfort of home, the least shecould do was to make herself useful. 

"Half a minute, Eliza. " She smiled at the slatternly girl. "Sorry tokeep you waiting; there's a river of ink gone astray here. " She placedthe soaked cloth on the waste-paper basket and polished the top of thetable vigorously. 

"I'll bet it worn't you wot spilt it--but it's you wot 'as the cleanin'up, " muttered Eliza. "Lemme rub that up now, Miss. " She put down hertray and took the cloth from Cecilia's hand. 

"Thanks, ever so, Eliza--but you've got plenty to do yourself. "

"Well, if I 'ave, I ain't the on'y one wot 'as, " said Eliza darkly. Her wizened little face suddenly flushed. "Lor, Miss, " she saidconfidentially, "you doan't know wot a success that 'at you trimmed forme is. It's a fair scream. I wore it larst night, an' me young man--'imwot's in the Royal Irish--well, it fair knocked 'im! An' 'e wants me togo out wiv 'im next Benk 'Oliday--out to 'Ampstead 'Eath. 'E never gotas far as arstin' me that before. I know it was that 'at wot done it. "

"Not it, Eliza, " Cecilia laughed. "It was just your hair under the hat. I told you how pretty it would be, if you would only brush it more. "

"Well, I never 'ad no brush till you give me your old one, " said Elizapractically. "I did brush it, though, a nundred times every night, tillCook reckoned I was fair cracked. But 'air's on'y 'air, an' anyone 'asit--it's not every one 'as an 'at like that. " She clattered plates uponthe table violently. "You goin' out this awfternoon, Miss?"

"As soon as I can, Eliza. " Cecilia's face fell. "I must arrange flowersfirst. "

"I'll 'ave the vawses all ready wiv clean water for you, " said Eliza. "An' don't you worry about the drorin'-room--I'll see as it's nice. "

"Oh, you can't, Eliza--you have no time. I know it's silver-cleaningafternoon. "

"Aw, I'll squeeze it in some'ow. " Eliza stopped suddenly, at a decidedfootstep in the passage, and began to rattle spoons and forks with avigour born of long practice. Cecilia picked up the inky cloth, and wentout. 

Her stepmother was standing by the hall-stand, apparently intent onexamining Wilfred's straw hat. She spoke in a low tone as the girlpassed her. 

"I wish you did not find so much pleasure in gossiping with servants, Cecilia. It is such a bad example for Avice. I have spoken about it toyou before. "

Cecilia did not answer. She went upstairs with flaming cheeks, anddraped the cloth across the hand basin in the bathroom, turning the tapvengefully. A stream of water flowed through the wide stain. 

"There's more real kindness in that poor little Cockney's finger thanthere is in your whole body!" Cecilia whispered, apparently addressingthe unoffending cloth--which, having begun life as a dingy green andblack, did not seem greatly the worse for its new decoration. "Hatefulold thing!" A smile suddenly twitched the corners of her mouth. "Well, she can't stop the money for a new cloth out of this quarter'sallowance, because I've just got it. That's luck, anyhow. I'll give itto Bob to keep, in case she goes through my desk again. " She poured someammonia upon the stain, and rubbed gingerly, surveying the result with atilted nose. It was not successful. "Shall I try petrol? But petrol'san awful price, and I've only got the little bottle I use for my gloves. Anyhow, the horrible old cloth is so old and thin that it will fall topieces if I rub it. Oh, it's no use bothering about it--nothing willmake it better. " She squeezed the water from the cloth and spread thestained area over a chair to dry, looking disgustedly at her own dyedfinger-nails. "Now for Avice's shoes before I scrub my hands. "

Avice's shoes proved a lengthy task, since the younger Miss Rainham hadapparently discovered some clay to walk through in Regent's Park on herway home from the last dancing lesson; and well-hardened clay resistsordinary cleaning methods, and demands edged tools. The luncheon bellrang loudly before Cecilia had finished. She gave the shoes a finalhurried rub, and then fell to cleansing her hands; arriving in thedining-room, pink and breathless, some minutes later, to find a drearypiece of tepid mutton rapidly congealing on her plate. 

"I think you might manage to be down in time for meals, Cecilia, " wasMrs. Rainham's chilly greeting. 

Cecilia said nothing. She had long realized the uselessness of anyexcuses. To be answered merely gave her stepmother occasion for furtherfault-finding--you might, as Cecilia told Bob, have a flawless defencefor the sin of the moment, but in that case Mrs. Rainham merely changedher ground, and waxed eloquent about the sin of yesterday, or of lastFriday week, for which there might happen to be no defence at all. Itwas so difficult to avoid being a criminal in Mrs. Rainham's eyes thatCecilia had almost given up the attempt. She attacked her greasymutton and sloppy cabbage in silence, unpleasantly conscious of herstepmother's freezing glance. 

Mrs. Rainham was a short, stout woman, with colourless, rather pinchedfeatures, and a wealth of glorious red hair. Some one had once told herthat her profile was classic, and she still rejoiced in believing it, was always photographed from a side view, and wore in the house looseand flowing garments of strange tints, calculated to bring out thecolour of her glowing tresses. Cecilia, who worshipped colour with everybit of her artist soul, adored her stepmother's hair as thoroughly asshe detested her dresses. Bob, who was blunt and inartistic, merelydetested her from every point of view. "Don't see what you find to raveabout in it, " he said. "All the warmth of her disposition has simplygone to her head. "

There was certainly little warmth in Mrs. Rainham's heart, where herstepdaughter was concerned. She disapproved very thoroughly of Ceciliain every detail--of her pretty face and delicate colouring, of the fairhair that rippled and curled and gleamed in a manner so light-hearted asto seem distinctly out of place in the dingy room, of the slender gracethat was in vivid contrast to her own stoutness. She resented the veryway Cecilia put on her clothes--simple clothes, but worn with an airthat made her own elaborate dresses cheap and common by comparison. Itwas so easy for her to look well turned out; and it would never be easyto dress Avice, who bade fair to resemble her mother in build, and hadalready a passion for frills and trimmings, and a contempt for plainthings. Mrs. Rainham had an uneasy conviction that the girl who bore allher scathing comments in silence actually dared to criticize her inher own mind--perhaps openly to Bob, whose blue eyes held many unspokenthings as he looked at her. Once she had overheard him say to Cecilia:"She looks like an over-ornamented pie!" Cecilia had laughed, and Mrs. Rainham had passed on, unsuspected, her mind full of a wild surmise. They would never dare to mean her--and yet--that new dress of hers wasplastered with queer little bits of purposeless trimmings. She neveragain wore it without that terrible sentence creeping into her mind. And she had been so pleased with it, too! An over-ornamented pie. If shecould only have been sure they meant her!

She thought of it again as she sat looking at Cecilia. The new dress waslying on her bed, ready to be worn that afternoon; and Cecilia was goingto meet Bob--Bob, who had uttered the horrible remark. Well, at leastthere should be no haste about the meeting. It would do Bob no harm tocool his heels for a little. She set her thin lips tightly together, asshe helped the rice pudding. 

The meal ended, amidst loud grumbles from Wilfred that the pudding wasrice; and Cecilia hurried off to find the flowers and arrange them. Theflorist's box was near the vases left ready by the faithful Eliza; shecut the string with a happy exclamation of "Daffodils!" as she liftedthe lid. Daffodils were always a joy; this afternoon they were doublywelcome, because easy to arrange. She sorted them into long-necked vasesswiftly, carrying each vase, when filled, to the drawing-room--a painfulapartment, crowded with knick-knacks until it resembled a bazaar stall, with knobby and unsteady bamboo furniture and much drapery of a would-beartistic nature. It was stuffy and airless. Cecilia wrinkled her prettynose as she entered. Mrs. Rainham held pronounced views on the subjectof what she termed the "fresh-air fad, " and declined to let Londonair--a smoky commodity at best--attack her cherished carpets; with theresult that Cecilia breathed freely only in her little attic, which hadno carpet at all. 

The lady of the house rustled in, in her flowing robe, as Cecilia putthe last vase into position on the piano--finding room for it withdifficulty amid a collection of photograph frames and china ornaments. She carried some music, and cast a critical eye round the room. 

"This place looks as if it had not been properly dusted for a week, "she remarked. "See to it before you go, Cecilia. " She opened thepiano. "Just come and try the accompaniment to this song--it's ratherdifficult, and I want to sing it to-night. "

Cecilia sat down before the piano, with woe in her heart. Herstepmother's delusion that she could sing was one of the minor trials ofher life. She had been thoroughly trained in Paris, under a master whohad prophesied great things for her; now her hours at the Rainhams'tinkly piano, playing dreary accompaniments to sentimental songs withMrs. Rainham's weak soprano wobbling and flattening on the high notes, were hours of real distress, from which she would escape feeling herteeth on edge. Her stepmother, however, had thoroughly enjoyed herselfsince the discovery that no accompaniment presented any difficulty toCecilia. It saved her a world of trouble in practising; moreover, whenstanding, it was far easier to let herself go in the affecting passages, which always suffered from scantiness of breath when she was sittingdown. Therefore she would stand beside Cecilia, pouring forth song aftersong, with her head slightly on one side, and one hand resting lightlyon the piano--an attitude which, after experiment with a mirror, she haddecided upon as especially becoming. 

The song of the moment did make some demands upon her attention. Ithad a disconcerting way of changing from sharps to flats; trouble beingcaused by the singer failing to change also. Cecilia took her through itpatiently, going over and over again the tricky passages, and devoutlywishing that Providence in supplying her stepmother with boundlessenergy, a tireless voice and an enormous stock of songs, had alsoequipped her with an ear for music. At length the lady desisted from herefforts. 

"That's quite all right, " she said, with satisfaction. "I'll sing itto-night. The Simons will be here, and they do like to hear what's new. Go on with your dusting; I'll just run through a few pieces, and you cantell me if I go wrong. "

Cecilia hesitated, glancing at the clock. 

"It is getting very late, " she said. "Eliza told me she could dust theroom. "

"Eliza!" said Mrs. Rainham. "Why, it's her silver day; she had nobusiness to tell you anything of the sort--and neither had you, to askher to do it. Goodness knows it's hard enough to make the lazy thing doher own work. Just get your duster, and make sure as you come down thatthe children are properly dressed for the dancing class. " She broke intoa waltz. 

Cecilia ran. Sounds of woe greeted her as she neared Avice's room, and she entered, to find that damsel plunged in despair over a missingbutton. 

"It was on all right last time I wore the beastly dress, " wailed she. "If you'd look after my clothes like Mater said you had to, I wouldn'tbe late. Whatever am I to do? I can't make the old dress shut with asafety pin. "

"No, you certainly can't, " said her half-sister. "Never mind; there arespare buttons for that frock, and I can sew one on. " She accomplishedthe task with difficulty, since Avice appeared quite unable to standstill. 

"Now, are you ready, Avice? Shoes, hat, gloves--where are your gloves?How do you ever manage to find anything in that drawer?" She rootedswiftly in a wild chaos, and finally unearthed the gloves. "Yes, you'lldo. Now, where's Wilfred?" Search revealed Wilfred, who hated dancing, reading a "penny dreadful" in his room--ready to start, save for thetrifling detail of having neglected to wash an extremely dirty face. Cecilia managed to make him repair the omission, after a struggle, and saw them off with a thankful heart--which sank anew as she hearda neighbouring clock strike three. Three--and already she should bemeeting Bob in Hyde Park. She fled for a duster, and hurried to thedrawing-room. Eliza encountered her on the way. 

"Now, wotcher goin' to do wiv that duster, Miss?" she inquired. "I toldyer I'd do it for yer. "

"Mrs. Rainham is waiting for me to do it, Eliza. I'm sorry. "

"Ow!" Eliza's expression and her tilted nose spoke volumes. "Supposeshe finks I wouldn't clean 'er old silver proper. Silver, indeed!--'lectrer-plyte, an' common at that. Just you cut and run assoon as she's out of the 'ouse, Miss; I know she's goin', 'cause 'ergreen and yaller dress is a-airin' on 'er bed. "

"It's not much good, Eliza. I ought to be in the Park now. " Ceciliaknew she should not allow the girl to speak of her mistress socontemptuously. But she was disheartened enough at the moment not tocare. 

"Lor!" said Eliza. "A bloomin' shyme, I calls it!"

Cecilia found her stepmother happily engaged upon a succession of wrongnotes that made her wince. She dusted the room swiftly, aware all thetime of a watchful eye. Occasionally came a crisp comment: "You didn'tdust that window-sill. " "Cecilia, that table has four legs--did you onlynotice two?"--the effort to speak while playing generally bringing theperformer with vigour upon a wrong chord. The so-called music becamealmost a physical torment to the over-strained girl. 

"If she would only stop--if she would only go away!" she found herselfmurmuring, over and over. Even the thought of Bob waiting in Hyde Parkin the chill east wind became dim beside that horrible piano, bangingand tinkling in her ear. She dusted mechanically, picking up one cheapornament after another--leaving the collection upon the piano until thelast, in the hope that by the time she reached it the thirst formusic would have departed from the performer. But Mrs. Rainham's teaappointment was not yet; she was thoroughly enjoying herself, the charmof her own execution added to the knowledge that Cecilia was miserable, and Bob waiting somewhere, with what patience he might. She held onto the bitter end, while the girl dusted the piano's burden with a setface. Then she finished a long and painful run, and shut the piano witha bang. 

"There--I've had quite a nice practice, and it isn't often thedrawing-room gets really decently dusted, " she remarked. "Nothing likethe eye of the mistress; I think I must practise every day while you aredusting, Cecilia. Oh, and, Cecilia, give the legs of the piano a goodrubbing. Dear me, I must go and dress. "

Cecilia dragged herself upstairs a few minutes later. All the spring wasgone out of her; it really did not seem to matter much now whether shemet Bob or not; she was too tired to care. This was only a sample ofmany days; so it had been for two years--so it would be for two more, until she was twenty-one, and her own mistress. But it did not seempossible that she could endure through another two years. 

She reached her own room, and was about to shut the door, when the harshvoice rasped upwards. 

"Cecilia! Cecilia! Come here a minute. "

The girl went down slowly. Mrs. Rainham was standing before her mirror. 

"Just come and hook my dress, Cecilia. This new dressmaker has a knackof making everything hard to fasten. There--see that you start with theright hook and eye. "

At the moment, physical contact with her stepmother was almost the laststraw for the girl. She obeyed in silence, shrinking back as far as shecould from the stout, over-scented body and the powdered face with thethin lips. Mrs. Rainham watched her with a little smile. 

"Yes, that's all right, " she said. "Now, my hat, Cecilia--it's in thebandbox under the bed. I can't stoop in this dress, that's the worstof it. And my gloves are in that box on the chest of drawers--the whitepair. Hurry, Cecilia, my appointment is for four o'clock. "

"Mine was for three o'clock, " said the girl in a low voice. 

"Oh, well, you should manage your work better. I always tell you that. Nothing like method in getting through every day. However, Bob is onlyyour brother--it would be more serious if it was a young man you weremeeting. Brothers don't matter much. "

Cecilia flamed round upon her. 

"Bob is more to me than anyone in the world, " she cried. "And I wouldrather keep any other man waiting. "

"Really? But I shouldn't think it very likely that you'll ever have totrouble about other young men, Cecilia; you're not the sort. Too thinand scraggy. " Mrs. Rainham surveyed her own generous proportions in theglass, and gathered up her gloves with a pleased air. For the moment shecould not possibly believe that anyone could have referred to her as "anover-ornamented pie. " "Good-bye, Cecilia; don't be late for tea. " Shesailed down the stairs. 

Even the bang of the hall door failed to convey any relief to Cecilia. For the second time she toiled upstairs, to the bare freshness of herlittle room. Generally, it had a tonic effect upon her; to-day it seemedthat nothing could help her. She leaned her head against the window, a wave of homesick loneliness flooding all her soul. So deep were itswaters that she did not hear the hall door open and close again, andpresently swift feet pounding up the stairs. Someone battered on herdoor. 

"Cecilia! Are you there?"

She ran to open the door. Bob stood there, a short, muscular fellow, inAir Force blue, with twinkling eyes. She put out her hands to him with alittle pitiful gesture. 

"Don't say that horrible name again, " she whispered. "If anyone elsecalls me Cecilia I'll just go mad. "

Bob came in, and flung a brotherly arm round her shoulders. 

"Has it been so beastly?" he said. "Poor little Tommy. Oh, Tommy, I sawthe over-ornamented pie sailing down the street, and I dived into a sidealley until she'd gone out of range. I guessed from her proud and happyface that you'd been scarified. "

"Scarified!" murmured Cecilia. But Bob was not listening. His face wasradiant. 

"I couldn't wait in the park any longer, " he said. "I had to come andtell you. Tommy, old thing--I'm demobilized!"

CHAPTER II

THE RAINHAMS

It was one of Mrs. Mark Rainham's grievances that, comparatively latein her married life, she should suddenly find herself brought intoassociation with the children of her husband's first marriage. They wereproblems that Fate had previously removed from her path; she found itextremely annoying--at first--that Fate should cease to be so tactful, casting upon her a burden long borne by other shoulders. It was notuntil she had accepted Mark Rainham, eleven years before, that she foundout the very existence of Bob and Cecilia; she resented the manner ofthe discovery, even as she resented the children themselves. Not thatshe ever dreamed of breaking off her engagement on their account. Shewas a milliner in a Kensington shop, and to marry Mark Rainham, whowas vaguely "something in the city, " and belonged to a good club, anddressed well, was a distinct step in the social scale, and two unknownchildren were not going to make her draw back. But to mother them wasquite another question. 

Luckily, Fate had a compassionate eye upon the young Rainhams, and wasquite willing to second their stepmother's resolve that they should comeinto her life as little as possible. Their father had never concernedhimself greatly about them. A lazy and selfish man, he had always beenwilling to shelve the care of his small son and daughter--babies werenot in his line, and the aunt who had brought up their mother was onlytoo anxious to take Bob and Cecilia when that girl-mother had slippedaway from life, leaving a week-old Cecilia and a sturdy, solemn Bob ofthree. 

The arrangement suited Mark Rainham very well. Aunt Margaret's houseat Twickenham was big enough for half a dozen babies; the children wentthere, with their nurse, and he was free to slip back into bachelorways, living in comfortable chambers within easy reach of his club andnot too far, with a good train service, from a golf links. The regularweek-end visits to the babies suffered occasional interruptions, andgradually grew fewer and fewer, until he became to the children a vagueand mysterious person named Papa, who dropped from the skies nowand then, asked them a number of silly questions, talked with greatpoliteness to Aunt Margaret--who, they instinctively felt, liked himno better than they did--and then disappeared, whereupon every onewas immensely relieved. Even the fact that he generally brought them apacket of expensive sweets was as nothing beside the harrowing knowledgethat they must kiss him, thereby having their faces brushed with a largeand scrubby moustache. Aunt Margaret and nurse did not have to endurethis infliction--which seemed to Bob and Cecilia obviously unfair. Butthe visits did not often happen--not enough to disturb seriously anexistence crammed with interesting things like puppies and kittens, thepony cart, boats on the river that ran just beyond the lawn, occasionaltrips to London and the Zoo, and delirious fortnights at the seasideor on Devonshire moors. Cecilia had never known even Bobby's shadowymemories of their own mother. Aunt Margaret was everything thatmattered, and the person called Papa was merely an unpleasant incident. Other little boys and girls whom they knew owned, in their houses, delightful people named Daddy and Mother; but Cecilia and Bob quiteunderstood that every one could not have the same things, for possiblythese fortunate children had no puppies or pony carts. Nurse had pointedout this, so that it was perfectly clear. 

It was when Cecilia was eight and Bob eleven, that their father marriedagain. To the children it meant nothing; to Aunt Margaret it was a bomb. If Mark Rainham had happened to die, or go to the North Pole, she wouldhave borne the occurrence calmly; but that he should take a step whichmight mean separating her from her beloved babies shook her to herfoundations. Even when she was assured that the new Mrs. Rainhamdisliked children, and had not the slightest intention of adding Bob andCecilia to her household, Aunt Margaret remained uneasy. The red-hairedperson, as she mentally labelled her, might change her mind. MarkRainham was wax in her hands, and would always do as he was told. AuntMargaret, goaded by fear, became heroic. She let the beloved house atTwickenham while Mr. And Mrs. Rainham were still on their honeymoon;packed up the children, her maids, nurse, the parrot and most of thepuppies; and kept all her plans a profound secret until she was safelyestablished in Paris. 

To the average Londoner, Paris is very far off. There are, of course, very many people who run across the Channel as easily as a Melbourne manmay week-end in Gippsland or Bendigo, but the suburban section ofLondon is not fond of voyaging across a strip of water with unpleasantpossibilities in the way of choppiness, to a strange country where mostof the inhabitants have the bad taste not to speak English. Neither MarkRainham nor his new wife had ever been in France, and to them it seemed, as Aunt Margaret had shrewdly hoped it would, almost as though theTwickenham household had gone to the North Pole. A great relief fellupon them, since there could now be no question of assuming dutieswhen those duties were suddenly beyond their reach. And Aunt Margaret'sletter was convincing--such a good offer, suddenly, for the Twickenhamhouse; such excellent educational opportunities for the children, inthe shape of semi-English schools, where Bob and Cecilia might mix withEnglish children and retain their nationality while acquiring ParisianFrench. If Mark Rainham felt any inward resentment at the summarydisposal of his son and daughter, he did not show it; as of old, it waseasier to let things slide. Aunt Margaret was given a free hand, savethat at fourteen Bob returned to school in England; an arrangement thatmattered little, since all his holidays were spent at the new home atFontainebleau--a house which, even to the parrot, was highly reminiscentof Twickenham. 

Bob and Cecilia found life extremely interesting. They were cheery, happy-go-lucky youngsters, with an immense capacity for enjoyment; andAunt Margaret, while much too shrewd an old lady to spoil children, delighted in giving them a good time. They found plenty of friends inthe little English community in Paris, as well as among their Frenchneighbours. Paris itself was full of fascination; then there werewonderful excursions far afield--holidays in Brussels, in the Southof France, even winter sporting in Switzerland. Aunt Margaret wasdetermined that her nurselings should miss nothing that she could givethem. The duty letters which she insisted on their writing, once amonth, to their father told of happenings that seemed strangely remotefrom the humdrum life of London. "By Jove, the old lady gives thoseyoungsters a good time!" Mark Rainham would comment, tossing them acrossthe table to his wife. He did not guess at the dull rage that filled heras she read them--the unreasoning jealousy that these children shouldhave opportunities so far beyond any that were likely to occur for herown, who squabbled angrily over their breakfast while she read. 

"She seems to have any amount of money to spend on gadding about, " shewould say unpleasantly. 

"Oh, pots of money. Wish to goodness I had some of it, " her husbandwould answer. Money was always scarce in the Rainham household. 

When the thunderbolt of war fell upon the world, Aunt Margaret, afterthe first pangs of panic, stiffened her back, and declined to leaveFrance. England, she declared, was not much safer than anywhere else;and was it likely that she and Cecilia would run away when Bob wascoming back? Bob, just eighteen, captain of his school training corps, stroke of its racing boat, and a mighty man of valour at football, slidnaturally into khaki within a month of the outbreak of war, puttingaside toys, with all the glad company of boys of the Empire, until suchtime as the Hun should be taught that he had no place among white men. Aunt Margaret and Cecilia, knitting frantically at socks and mufflersand Balaclava helmets, were desperately proud of him, and compared hisphotograph, in uniform, with all the pictures of Etienne and Henri andArmand, and other French boys who had played with him under the trees atFontainebleau, and had now marched away to join him at the greater game. It was difficult to realize that they were not still little boys inblouses and knickerbockers--difficult even when they swooped down fromtime to time on short leave, filling the quiet houses with pranks andlaughter that were wholly boyish. Even when Bob had two stars onhis cuff, and wore the ribbon of the Military Cross, it would haveastonished Aunt Margaret and Cecilia very much had anyone suggested thathe was grown up. 

Indeed, Aunt Margaret was never to think of him as anything but "one ofthe children. " Illness, sudden and fierce, fell upon her after a longspell of duty at the hospital where she worked from the first few monthsof the war--working as cook, since she had no nursing experience, andwas, she remarked, too old to learn a new trade. Brave as she was, therewas no battling for her against the new foe; she faded out of life aftera few days, holding Cecilia's hand very tightly until the end. 

Bob, obtaining leave with much difficulty, arrived a few days later, tofind a piteous Cecilia, white-faced, stunned and bewildered. She pleadeddesperately against leaving France; amidst all the horror and chaos thathad fallen upon her, it seemed unthinkable that she should put the seabetween herself and Bob. But to remain was impossible. Aunt Margaret'sEnglish maids wanted to go back to their friends, and a girl ofseventeen could scarcely stay alone in a country torn by two years ofwar. Besides, Aunt Margaret's affairs were queerly indefinite; thereseemed very little money where there had formerly been plenty. There wasno alternative for Cecilia but England--and England meant the Rainhamhousehold, and such welcome as it might choose to give her. 

She was still bewildered when they made the brief journey across theChannel--a new Channel, peopled only with war-ships of every kind, fromgrim Dreadnoughts to submarines; with aircraft, bearing the red, whiteand blue circles of Britain, floating and circling overhead. Last timeCecilia had crossed, it had been with Aunt Margaret on a big turbinemail boat; they had reached Calais just as an excursion steamer fromMargate came up, gay with flags and light dresses, with a band playingragtime on the well-deck, and people dancing to a concertina at thestern. Now they zig-zagged across, sometimes at full speed, sometimesstopping dead or altering their course in obedience to the destroyernosing ahead of them through the Channel mist; and she could see theface of the captain on the bridge, strained and anxious. There wereso few civilians on board that Cecilia and the two old servants weregreeted with curious stares; nearly all the passengers were in uniform, their boots caked with the mud of the trenches, their khaki soiled withthe grime of war. It was all rather dream-like to Cecilia; and Londonitself was a very bad dream; darkened and silent, with the great beamsof searchlights playing back and forth over the black skies in search ofmarauding Zeppelins. And then came her father's stiff greeting, and thesilent drive to the tall, narrow house in Lancaster Gate, where Mrs. Rainham met her coldly. In after years Cecilia never could think withouta shudder of that first meal in her father's house--the struggle toeat, the lagging talk round the table, with Avice and Wilfred, franklyhostile, staring at her in silence, and her stepmother's pale eyesappraising every detail of her dress. It was almost like happiness againto find herself alone, later; in a dingy little attic bedroom that smeltas though it had never known an open window--a sorry little hole, butstill, out of the reach of those unblinking eyes. 

For the first year Cecilia had struggled to get away to earn her ownliving. But a very few weeks served to show Mrs. Rainham that chancehad sent her, in the person of the girl whose coming she had sullenlyresented, a very useful buffer against any period of domestic stress. Aunt Margaret had trained Cecilia thoroughly in all housewifely virtues, and her half-French education had given her much that was lacking inthe stodgy damsels of Mrs. Rainham's acquaintance. She was quickand courteous and willing; responding, moreover, to the lash of thetongue--after her first wide-eyed stare of utter amazement--exactly as awell-bred colt responds to a deftly-used whip. "I'll keep her, " was Mrs. Rainham's inward resolve. "And she'll earn her keep too!"

There was no doubt that Cecilia did that. Wilfred and Avice saw to it, even had not their mother been fully capable of exacting the last ouncefrom the only helper she had ever had who had not the power to give hera week's notice. Cecilia's first requests to be allowed to take up workoutside had been shelved vaguely. "We'll find some nice war-work foryou presently". . . And meanwhile, the household was short-handed, Mrs. Rainham was overstrained--Cecilia found later that her stepmother wasalways "overstrained" whenever she spoke of leaving home--and dutiesmultiplied about her and hemmed her in. Mrs. Rainham was clever; the netclosed round the girl so gradually that she scarcely realized its meshesuntil they were drawn tightly. Even Bob helped. "You're awfully youngto start work on your own account, " he wrote. "Can't you stick it fora bit, if they are decent to you?" And, rather than cause him any extraworry, Cecilia decided that she must "stick it. "

Of her father she saw little. He was, just as she remembered him in herfar-back childhood at Twickenham, vague and colourless. Rather to herhorror, she found that the ordeal of being kissed by his large andscrubby moustache was just as unpleasant as ever. Cecilia had no ideaof how he earned his living--he ate his breakfast hurriedly, concealedbehind the Daily Mail, and then disappeared, bound for some mysteriousplace in the city--the part of London that was always full of mystery toCecilia. Golf was the one thing that roused him to any enthusiasm, andgolf was even more of a mystery than the city. Cecilia knew that itwas played with assorted weapons, kept in a bag, and used for smitinga small ball over great expanses of country, but beyond these facts herknowledge stopped. Mrs. Rainham had set her to clean the clubs one day, but her father, appearing unexpectedly, had taken them from her handswith something like roughness. "No, by Jove!" he said. "You do a goodmany odd jobs in this house, but I'm hanged if you shall clean my golfsticks. " Cecilia did not realize that the assumed roughness coveredsomething very like shame. 

Money matters were rather confusing. A lawyer--also in the city--paidher a small sum quarterly--enough to dress on, and for minor expenses. Bob wrote that Aunt Margaret's affairs were in a beastly tangle. Anannuity had died with her, and many of her investments had been hit bythe war, and had ceased to pay dividends--had even, it seemed, ceased tobe valuable at all. There was a small allowance for Bob also, and someday, if luck should turn, there might be a little more. Bob did not saythat his own allowance was being hoarded for Cecilia, in case he "wentwest. " He lived on his pay, and even managed to save something out ofthat, being a youth of simple tastes. His battalion had been practicallywiped out of existence in the third year of the war, and after apeaceful month in a north country hospital, near an aerodrome, the callof the air was too much for him--he joined the cheerful band of flyingmen, and soon filled his letters to Cecilia with a bewildering mixtureof technicalities and aviation slang that left her gasping. But hegot his wings in a very short time, and she was prouder of him thanever--and more than ever desperately afraid for him. 

The children's daily governess, a down-trodden person, left afterCecilia had been in England for a few months, and the girl steppednaturally into the vacant position until some one else should be found. She had no idea that Mrs. Rainham made no effort at all to discover anyother successor to Miss Simpkins. Where, indeed, Mrs. Rainhamdemanded of herself, would she be likely to find anyone with suchqualifications--young, docile, with every advantage of a moderneducation, speaking French like a native, and above and beyond all else, requiring no pay? It would be flying in the face of Providence to ignoresuch a chance. Wherefore Cecilia continued to lead her step-sistersand brother in the paths of learning, and life became a thing of utterweariness. For Mrs. Rainham, though shrewd enough to get what shewanted, in the main was not a far-sighted woman; and in her unreasoningdislike and jealousy of Cecilia she failed to see that she defeated herown ends by making her a drudge. Whatever benefit the girl might havegiven the children was lost in their contempt for her. She had noauthority, no power to enforce a command, or to give a punishment, and the children quickly discovered that, so long as they gave her themerest show of obedience in their mother's presence, any shortcomings ineducation would be laid at Cecilia's door. Lesson time became a periodof rare sport for the young Rainhams; it was so easy to bait the newsister with cheap taunts, to watch the quick blood mount to the veryroots of her fair hair, to do just as little as possible, and then tosee her blamed for the result. Mrs. Rainham's bitter tongue grew moreand more uncontrolled as time went on and she felt the girl more fullyin her power. And Cecilia lived through each day with tight-shut lips, conscious of one clear thing in her mist of unhappy bewilderment--thatBob must not know: Bob, who would probably leave his job of skimmingthrough the air of her beloved France after the Hun, and snatch an hourto fly to England and annihilate the entire Rainham household, returningwith Cecilia tucked away somewhere in his aeroplane. It was a pleasantdream, and served to carry her through more than one hard moment. But itdid not always serve; and there were nights when Cecilia mounted to herattic with dragging footsteps, to sit by her window in the darkness, gripping her courage with both hands, afraid to let herself think of thedear, happy past; of Aunt Margaret, whose very voice was love; least ofall of Bob, perhaps even now flying in the dark over the German lines. There was but one thing that she could hold to: she voiced it toherself, over and over with clenched hands, "It can't last for ever! Itcan't last for ever!"

And then, after the long years of clutching anxiety, came the Armistice, and Cecilia forgot all her troubles in its overwhelming relief. No onewould shoot at Bob any longer; there were no more hideous, squat guns, with muzzles yawning skywards, ready to shell him as he skimmed highoverhead, like a swallow in the blue. Therefore she sang as she wentabout her work, undismayed by the laboured witticisms of Aviceand Wilfred, or by Mrs. Rainham's venom, which increased with therealization that her victim might possibly slip from her grasp, sinceBob would come home, and Bob was a person to be reckoned with. CertainlyBob had scarcely any money; moreover, Cecilia was not of age, and, therefore, still under her father's control. But Mrs. Rainham feltvaguely uneasy, and visions floated before her of the old days whengovernesses and maids had departed with unpleasant frequency, leavingher to face all sorts of disagreeable consequences. She set her thinlips, vowing inwardly that Cecilia should remain. 

Nevertheless it was a relief to her that early demobilization didnot come for Bob. At the time of the Armistice he was attached to anAustralian flying squadron, and for some months remained abroad; then hewas sent back to England, and employed in training younger fliers at aSurrey aerodrome. This had its drawbacks in Mrs. Rainham's eyes, sincehe was often able to run up to London, and, to Bob, London merely meantCecilia. It was only a question of time before he discovered somethingof what life at Lancaster Gate meant--his enlightenment beginning uponan afternoon when, arriving unexpectedly, and being left by Eliza tofind Cecilia for himself, he had the good fortune to overhear Mrs. Rainham in one of her best efforts--a "wigging" to which Avice andWilfred were listening delightedly, and which included not onlyCecilia's sin of the moment, but her upbringing, her French education, her "foreign fashion of speaking, " and her sinful extravagance inshoes. These, and other matters, were furnishing Mrs. Rainham withample material for a bitter discourse when she became aware of anotherpresence in the room, and her eloquence faltered at the sight of Bob'sastonished anger. 

Mrs. Rainham did not recall with any enjoyment the interview whichfollowed--Cecilia and the children having been brushed out of the wayby the indignant soldier. Things which had been puzzling to Bobwere suddenly made clear--traces of distress which Cecilia had oftenexplained away vaguely, the children's half-contemptuous manner towardsher, even Eliza's tone in speaking of her--a queer blend of anger andpity. Mrs. Rainham held her ground to some extent, but the brother'squestions were hard to parry, and some of his comments stung. 

"Well, I'll take her away, " he stormed at length. "It's evident that shedoes not give you satisfaction, and she certainly isn't happy. She hadbetter come away with me to-day. "

"Ah, " said his stepmother freezingly, "and where will you take her?"

Bob hesitated. 

"There are plenty of places--" he began. 

"Not for a young girl alone. Cecilia is very ignorant of England;you could not be with her. Your father would not hear of it. You mustremember that Cecilia is under his control until she is twenty-one. "

"My father has never bothered about either of us, " Bob said bitterly. "He surely won't object if I take her off your hands. "

"He will certainly not permit any such thing. Whatever arrangement hemade during your aunt's lifetime was quite a different matter. If youattempt to take Cecilia from his control you commit an illegal action, "said Mrs. Rainham--hoping she was on safe ground. To her relief Bob didnot contradict her. English law and its mysteries were beyond him. 

"I don't see that that matters, " he began doubtfully. His stepmother cuthim short. 

"You would very soon find that it matters a good deal, " she said coldly. "It would be quite simple for your father to get some kind of legalinjunction, forbidding you to interfere with your sister. Home trainingis what she needs, and we are determined that she shall get it. You willonly unsettle and injure her by trying to induce her to disobey us. "

The hard voice fell like lead on the boy's ears. He felt very helpless;if he did indeed snatch his sister away from this extremely unpleasanthome, and their father had only to stretch out a long, legal tentacleand claw her back, it was clear that her position would be harder thanever. He could only give in, at any rate, for the present, and in hisanxiety for the little sister whom Aunt Margaret had always trained himto protect, he humbled himself to beg for better treatment for her. "Noone ever was angry with her, " he said. "She'll do anything for you ifyou're decent to her. "

"She might give less cause for annoyance if she had had a littlemore severity, " said Mrs. Rainham with an unspoken sneer at poor AuntMargaret. "You had better advise her to do her best in return for thevery comfortable home we give her. " With which Bob had to endeavourto be content, for the present. He went off to find Cecilia, with alowering brow, leaving his stepmother not nearly so easy in her mind asshe seemed. For Bob had a square jaw, and was apt to talk little and doa good deal; and his affection for Cecilia was, in Mrs. Rainham's eyes, little short of ridiculous. 

Thereafter, the brother and sister took counsel together and made greatplans for the future, when once the Air Force should decide that it hadno further wish to keep Captain Robert Rainham from earning his livingon terra firma. What that future was to be for Bob was very difficult toplan. Aunt Margaret had intended him for a profession; but the time forthat had gone by, even had the money been still available. "I'm halfglad that it isn't, " Bob said; "I don't see how a fellow could go backto swotting over books after being really alive for nearly five years. "There seemed nothing but "the land" in some shape or form; they werenot very clear about it, but Bob was strenuously "keeping his earsopen"--like so many lads of his rank in the early months of 1919, when the future that had seemed so indefinite during the years of warsuddenly loomed up, very large and menacing. Cecilia had less anxiety;she had a cheerful faith that Bob would manage something--a three-roomedcottage somewhere in the country, where he could look after sheep, orcrops, or something of the kind, while she cooked and mended forhim, and grew such flowers as had bloomed in the dear garden atFontainebleau. Sheep and crops, she was convinced, grew themselves, inthe main; a person of Bob's ability would surely find little difficultyin superintending the process. And, whatever happened, nothing could beworse than life in Lancaster Gate. 

Neither of them ever thought of appealing to their father, either foradvice or for help. He remained, as he had always been to them, utterlycolourless; a kind of well-bred shadow of his wife, taking no part inher hard treatment of Cecilia, but lifting not a finger to save her. Hedid not look happy; indeed, he seldom spoke--it was not necessary, when Mrs. Rainham held the floor. He had a tiny den which he used as asmoking-room, and there he spent most of his time when at home, beingblessed in the fact that his wife disliked the smell of smoke, andrefused to allow it in her drawing-room. Nobody took much notice of him. The younger children treated him with cool indifference; Bob met himwith a kind of strained and uncomfortable civility. 

Curiously enough, it was only Eliza who divined in him a secrethankering after his eldest daughter--Cecilia, who would have been verymuch astonished had anyone hinted at such a thing to her. The sharp eyesof the little Cockney were not to be deceived in any matter concerningthe only person in the house who treated her as if she were a humanbeing and not a grate-cleaning automaton. 

"You see 'im foller 'er wiv 'is eyes, that's all, " said Eliza toCook, in the privacy of their joint bedroom. "Fair 'ungry he looks, sometimes. "

"No need for 'im to be 'ungry, if 'e 'ad the sperrit of a man, " saidCook practically. "Ain't she 'is daughter?"

"Well, yes, in a manner of speakin', " said Eliza doubtfully. "But thereain't much of father an' daughter about them two. I'd ruther 'ave myole man, down W'itechapel way; 'e can belt yer a fair terror, w'en 'e'sdrunk, but 'e'll allers tike yer out an' buy yer a kipper arterwards. Thet's on'y decent, fatherly feelin'. "

"Well, Master don't belt 'er, does 'e?"

"No; but 'e don't buy 'er the kipper, neither. An' I'd ruther 'ave thebeltin' from my ole man, even wivout no kipper, than 'ave us allerslookin' at each other as if we was wooden images. Even a beltin' showsas 'ow a man 'as some regard for 'is daughter. "

"It do, " said Cook. "Pity is, you ain't 'ad more of it, that's the onlything!"

CHAPTER III

PLAYING TRUANT

"Demobilized! Oh, Bob--truly?"

"Truly and really, " said Bob. "At least, I shall be in twenty-sevendays. Got my orders. Show up for the last time on the fifteenth of nextmonth. Get patted on the head, and told to run away and play. That's theprogramme, I believe, Tommy. The question is--What shall we play at?"

Cecilia brushed the hair from her brow. 

"I don't know, " she said vaguely. "It's too big to think of; and I can'tthink in this awful house, anyhow. Take me out, quick, please, Bobby. "

"Sure, " said Bob, regarding her with an understanding eye. "But you wantto change or something, don't you, old girl?"

"Why, yes, I suppose I do, " said Cecilia, with a watery smile, lookingat her schoolroom overall. "I forgot clothes. I've had a somewhat packedmorning. "

"You look as if this had been your busy day, " remarked Bob. "Right-oh, old girl; jump into your things, and I'll wait on the mat. Any chance ofthe she-dragon coming back?"

"No; she's gone out to tea. "

"More power to her, " said Bob cheerfully. "And the dragon puppies?"

"Oh, they're safely out of the way. I won't be five minutes, Bob. Don'tshut the door tight--you might disappear before I opened it. "

"Not much, " said Bob, through the crack of the door. "I'm a fixture. Want any shoes cleaned?"

"No, thanks, Bobby dear. I have everything ready. "

"From what the other fellows say about their sisters, I'm inclined tobelieve that you're an ornament to your sex, " remarked Bob. "When yousay five minutes, it really does mean not more than five and a half, asa rule; other girls seem to mean three-quarters of an hour. "

"I get all my things ready the night before when I'm going to meet you, "said Cecilia. "Catch me losing any time on my one day out. You can comeback again--my coat's on the hanger there, Bobby. " He put her into itdeftly, and she leaned back against him. "If you knew how good it isto see you again--and you smell of clean fresh air and good tobacco andRussia leather, and all sorts of nice things. "

"Good gracious, I'll excite attention in the street!" grinned Bob. "Ididn't imagine I was a walking scent-factory!"

"Neither you are--but everything in this house smells of coal-smoke andcabbage-water and general fustiness, and you're a nice change, that'sall, " said Cecilia. They ran downstairs together light-heartedly, andlet themselves out into the street. 

"Do we catch a train or a 'bus?"

"Oh, can't we walk?" Cecilia said. "I think if I walked hard I mightforget Mrs. Rainham. "

"I'd hate you to remember her, " Bob said. "Tell me what she has beendoing, anyhow, and then we won't think of her any more. "

"It doesn't sound much, " Cecilia said. "There never is anything verymuch. Only it goes on all the time. " She told him the story of her day, and managed to make herself laugh now and then over it. But Bob did notlaugh. His good-humoured young face was set and angry. 

"There isn't a whole lot in it, is there?" Cecilia finished. "And noone would think I was badly off--especially when the thing that hit mehardest of all was just dusting that awful drawing-room while she playsher awful tunes. Yes, I know I shouldn't say awful, and that no ladysays it--that must be true because Mrs. Rainham frequently tells meso--but it's such a relief to say whatever I feel like. "

"You can say what you jolly well please, " said Bob wrathfully. "Who'sshe, I'd like to know, to tell us what to say? And she kept you thereall the afternoon, when she knew you were due to meet me!--my hat, sheis a venomous old bird! And now it's half-past four, and what time doesshe expect you back?"

"Oh--the usual thing; the children's tea-time at six. She told me not tobe late. "

Bob set his jaw. 

"Well, you won't be late, because you won't be there, " he said. "Nogoing back to tea for you. We'll have dinner at the Petit Riche in Soho, and then we'll do a theatre, and then I'll take you home and we'll facethe music. Are you game?"

Cecilia laughed. 

"Game? Why, of course--but there will be awful scenes, Bobby. "

"Well, what can she do to you?" asked Bob practically. "You're too bigto beat, or she'd certainly do it; she can't stop your pay, because youdon't get any; and as you have your meals with the youngsters, she can'tdock your rations. That doesn't leave her much beside her tongue. Ofcourse, she can do a good deal with that; do you think you can standit?"

"Oh, yes, " said Cecilia. "You see, I generally have it, so it reallydoesn't matter much. But if she forbids me to go out with you again, Bobby?"

Bob pondered. 

"Well--you're nineteen, " he said. "And the very first minute I can, I'mgoing to take you away from her altogether. If you were a kid I wouldn'tlet you defy her. But, hang it all, Tommy, I'm not going to let herpunish you as though you were ten. If she forbids you to meet me--well, you must just take French leave, that's all. "

"Oh, Bob, you are a satisfying person!" said Cecilia, with a sigh. 

"Well, I don't know--it's you who will have to stand the racket, " saidBob. "I only wish I could take my share, old girl. But, please goodness, it won't be for long. "

"Bob, " said Cecilia, and paused. "What about that statement ofhers--that it would be illegal for you to take me away? Do you thinkit's true?"

"I've asked our Major, and he's a bit doubtful, " said Bob. "All theother fellows say it's utter nonsense. But I'm going to ask the oldlawyer chap who has charge of Aunt Margaret's money--he'll tell me. Wewon't bother about it, Tommy; if I can't get you politely, I'll stealyou. Just forget the she-dragon and all her works. "

"But have you thought about what you are going to do?"

"I don't think of much else, and that's the truth, Tommy, " said herbrother ruefully. "You see, there's mighty little in sight. I could geta clerkship, I suppose. I could certainly get work as a day labourer. But I don't see much in either of those possibilities towards alittle home with you, which is what I want. I'm going to answer everyadvertisement I can find for fellows wanted on farms. " He straightenedhis square shoulders. "Tommy, there must be plenty of work for any chapas strong as an ox, as I am. "

"I'm sure there's work, " said Cecilia. "But the men who want jobs don'tgenerally advertise themselves as 'complete with sister. ' I'm what'stechnically known as an encumbrance, Bob. "

"You!" said Bob. "You're just part of the firm, so don't you forget it. Didn't we always arrange that we should stick together?"

"We did--but it may not be easy to manage, " Cecilia said, doubtfully. "Perhaps we could get some job together; I could do inside work, orteach, or sew. "

"No!" said Bob explosively. "If I can't earn enough for us both, I oughtto be shot, Aunt Margaret didn't bring you up to work. "

"But the world has turned upside down since Aunt Margaret died, " saidCecilia. "And I have worked pretty hard for the last two years, Bob; andit hasn't hurt me. "

"It has made you older--and you ought to be only a kid yet, " said Bobwistfully. "You haven't had any of the fun girls naturally ought tohave. I don't want you to slave all your time, Tommy. "

"Bless you!" said his sister. "But I wouldn't care a bit, as long as itwas near you--and not in Lancaster Gate. "

They had turned across Hyde Park, where a big company of girl guideswas drilling, watched by a crowd of curious on-lookers. Across a belt ofgrass some boy scouts were performing similar evolutions, marching withall the extra polish and swagger they could command, just to show theguides that girls were all very well in their way, but that no one withskirts could really hope to do credit to a uniform. Cecilia paused towatch them. 

"Thank goodness, the children can come and drill in the park again!" shesaid. "I hated to come here before the armistice--soldiers, soldiers, drilling everywhere, and guns and searchlight fixings. Whenever I saw asquad drilling it made me think of you, and of course I felt sure you'dbe killed!"

"I do like people who look on the bright side of life!" said Boblaughing. "And whenever you saw an aeroplane I suppose you made sure Iwas crashing somewhere?"

"Certainly I did, " said his sister with dignity. 

"Women are queer things, " Bob remarked. "If you had these unpleasantbeliefs, how did you manage to write as cheerfully as you did? Yourletters were a scream--I used to read bits of 'em out to the fellows. "

"You had no business to do any such thing, " said Cecilia, blushing. 

"Well, I did, anyhow. They used to make 'em yell. How did you managethem?"

"Well, it was no good assuring you you'd be killed, " said Ceciliapractically. "I thought it was more sensible to try to make you laugh. "

"You certainly did that, " said Bob. "I fancied from your letters thatlife with the she-dragon was one huge joke, and that Papa was nice andcompanionable, and the kids, sweet little darlings who ate from yourhand. And all the time you were just the poor old toad under theharrow!"

"I'm not a toad!" rejoined his sister indignantly. "Don't you think youcould find pleasanter things to compare me to?"

"Toads aren't bad, " said Bob, laughing. "Ever seen the nice old fellowin the Zoo who shoots out a tongue a yard long and picks up a grub everytime? He's quite interesting. "

"I certainly never had any inclination to do any such thing, " Cecilialaughed. 

They had turned into Piccadilly and were walking down, watching thecrowded motor traffic racing north and south. Suddenly Bob straightenedup and saluted smartly, as a tall staff officer, wearing a general'sbadges, ran down the steps of a big club, and nearly cannoned intoCecilia. 

"I beg your pardon!" he said--and then, noticing Bob--"How are you, Rainham?" He dived into a waiting taxi, and was whisked away. 

"Did he bump you?" inquired Bob. 

"No--though it would be almost a privilege to be bumped by anyone assplendid as that!" Cecilia answered. "He knows you, too!--who is he, Bobby?"

"That's General Harran, the Australian, " said Bob proudly. "He's a greatman. I've run into him occasionally since I've been with the Australiansin France. "

"He looks nice. "

"He is nice, " replied Bob. "Awful martinet about duty, but he treatsevery one under him jolly well. Never forgets a face or a name, and he'salways got a decent word for everybody. He's had some quite long talksto me, when we were waiting for some 'plane or other to come back. "

"Why wouldn't he?" asked Cecilia, who considered it a privilege foranyone to talk to her brother. 

Bob regarded her in amazement. 

"Good gracious!" he ejaculated. "Why, he's a major-general; I can tellyou, most men of his rank haven't any use for small fry like me--to talkto, that is. "

Cecilia had a flash of memory. 

"Isn't he the general who was close by when you brought that Germanaeroplane down behind our lines? Didn't he say nice things to you aboutit?"

"Oh, that was only in the way of business, " said Bob somewhat confused. "The whole thing was only a bit of luck--and, of course, it was luck, too, that he was there. But he is just as nice to fellows who haven'thad a chance like that. "

Out of the crowd two more figures in Air Force uniform came, charging atBob with outstretched hands. 

"By Jove, old chap! What luck to meet you!"

They shook hands tumultuously, and Bob made them known toCecilia--comrades he had not seen for months, but with whom he hadshared many strange experiences in the years of war. They fell intoquick talk, full of the queer jargon of the air. The newcomers, itappeared, had been with the army of occupation in Germany; there seemeda thousand things they urgently desired to tell Bob within the nextfew minutes. One turned to Cecilia, presently, with a laughinginterpretation of some highly technical bit of slang. 

"Oh, you needn't bother to translate to Tommy, " Bob said. "She knows allabout it. "

The other boys suddenly gave her all their attention. 

"Are you Tommy? But we know you awfully well. "

"Me?" Cecilia turned pink. 

"Rather. We used to hear your letters. "

The pink deepened to a fine scarlet. 

"Bob!" said his sister reproachfully. "You really shouldn't. "

"Oh, don't say that, " said the taller boy, by name Harrison. "They werea godsend--there used to be jolly little to laugh about, pretty often, and your letters made us all yell. Didn't they, Billy?"

"They did, " said Billy, who was small and curly-haired--and incidentallya captain, with a little row of medal ribbons. "Jolliest letters ever. We passed a vote of thanks to you in the mess, Miss Tommy, after old Bobhere had gone. Some one was to write and tell him about it, but I don'tbelieve anyone ever did. I say, you must have had a cheery time--all thefunny things that ever happened seemed to come your way. "

Cecilia stammered something, her scarlet confusion deepening. A rathergrim vision of the war years swept across her mind--of the ceaselessquest in papers and journals, and wherever people talked, for "funnythings" to tell Bob; and of how, when fact and rumour gave out, she usedto sit by her attic window at night, deliberately inventing merry jests. It had closely resembled a job of hard work at the time; but apparentlyit had served its purpose well. She had made them laugh; and some onehad told her that no greater service could be rendered to the boys whorisked death, and worse than death, during every hour of the day andnight. But it was extremely difficult to talk about it afterwards. 

Bob took pity on her. 

"I'll tell you just what sort of a cheery time she had, some time orother, " he remarked. "What are you fellows doing this evening?"

"We were just going to ask you the same thing, " declared Billy. "Can'twe all go and play about somewhere? We've just landed, and we want to belooked after. Any theatres in this little town still?"

"Cheer-oh!" ejaculated Billy. "Let's all go and find out. "

So they went, and managed very successfully to forget war and evenstepmothers. They were all little more than children in enjoyment ofsimple pleasures still, since war had fallen upon them at the verythreshold of life, cutting them off from all the cheery happenings thatare the natural inheritance of all young things. The years that wouldordinarily have seen them growing tired of play had been spent in grimtasks; now they were children again, clamouring for the playtime theyhad lost. They found enormous pleasure in the funny little Frenchrestaurant, where Madame, a lady whose sympathies were as boundlessas her waist, welcomed them with wide smiles, delighting in thebroken French of Billy and Harrison, and deftly tempting them to freshexcursions in her language. She put a question in infantile French toBob presently, whereupon that guileless youth, with a childlike smile, answered her with a flood of idiomatic phrases, in an accent purer thanher own--collapsing with helpless laughter at her amazed face. Afterwhich, Madame neglected her other patrons to hover about their tablelike a stout, presiding goddess, guiding them gently to the best disheson the menu, and occasionally putting aside their own selection with ahasty, "Mon-non; you vill not like that one to-day. " She patted Ceciliain a motherly fashion at parting, and their bill was only about halfwhat it should have been. 

They found a musical comedy, and laughed their way through it--Billy andHarrison had apparently no cares in the world, and Bob and Cecilia werecaught up in the whirl of their high spirits, so that anything becamea huge joke. The evening flew by on airy wings, when Billy insistedon taking them to supper after the theatre. Cecilia allowed herself afleeting vision of Mrs. Rainham, and then, deciding that she might aswell be hanged for a sheep as a lamb, followed gaily. And supper was socheery a meal that she forgot all about time--until, just at the end, she caught sight of the restaurant clock. 

"Half-past eleven! Oh, Bobby!"

"Well, if it is--you poor little old Cinderella, " said Bob. 

But he hurried her away, for all that, amid a chorus of farewells andefforts, on the part of Billy and Harrison, to arrange further meetings. They ran to the nearest tube station, and dived into its depths; and, after being whisked underground for a few minutes, emerged into the coolnight. Cecilia slipped her arm through her brother's as they hurriedalong the empty street. 

"Now, you keep your nose in the air, " Bobby told her. "You aren'texactly a kid now, and she can't really do anything to you. Oh, byJove--I was thinking, in the theatre, she might interfere with ourletters. "

"She's quite equal to it, " said Cecilia. 

"Just what she'd revel in doing. Well, you can easily find out. I'llwrite to you to-morrow, and again the next day--just ordinary letters, with nothing particular in them except an arrangement to meet nextSaturday. If you don't get them you'll know she's getting at the mailfirst. "

"What shall I do, then?"

"Drop me a line--or, better still, wire to me, " said Bob. "Just say, 'Address elsewhere. ' Then I'll write to you at Mr. M'Clinton's; the oldsolicitor chap in Lincoln's Inn; and you'll have to go there and get theletters. You know his address, don't you?"

"Oh, yes. I have to write to him every quarter when he sends me myallowance. You'll explain to him, then, Bob, or he'll simply redirectyour letters here. "

"Oh, of course. I want to go and see the old chap, anyhow, to talk overAunt Margaret's affairs. I might as well know a little more about them. Tommy, the she-dragon can't actually lock you up, can she?"

"No--it couldn't be done, " said Cecilia. "Modern houses aren't builtwith dungeons and things. Moreover, if she tried to keep me in the houseshe would have to take the children out for their walks herself; and shesimply hates walking. "

"Then you can certainly post to me, and get my letters, and I'll be upagain as soon as ever I can. Buck up, old girl--it can't be for longnow. "

They turned in at the Rainhams' front gate, and Cecilia glanced upapprehensively. All the windows were in darkness; the grey front of thehouse loomed forbiddingly in the faint moonlight. 

"You're coming in, aren't you?" she asked, her hand tightening on hisarm. 

"Rather--we'll take the edge off her tongue together. " Bob rang thebell. "Wonder if they have all gone to bed. The place looks prettydark. "

"She's probably in the little room at the back--the one she calls herboudoir. "

"Horrible little den, full of bamboo and draperies and pampas grass--Iknow, " nodded Bob. "Well, either she's asleep or she thinks it's fun tokeep us on the mat. I'll try her again. " He pressed the bell, and thesound of its whirring echoed through the silent house. 

CHAPTER IV

COMING HOME

The bolt grated, as if grudgingly, and slowly the door opened as far asthe limits of its chain would permit, and Mrs. Rainham's face appearedin the aperture. She glared at them for a minute without speaking. 

"So you have come home?" she said at last. The chain fell, and the dooropened. "I wonder you trouble to come home at all. May I ask where youhave been?"

"She has been with me, Mrs. Rainham, " Bob said cheerfully. "May I comein?"

Mrs. Rainham did not move. She held the door half open, blocking theway. 

"It is far too late for me to ask you in, " she answered frigidly. "Cecilia can explain her conduct, I presume. "

"Oh, there's really nothing to explain, " Bob answered. "It was so latewhen she got out this afternoon that I kept her--why, it was afterhalf-past four before she was dressed. "

"I told her to be in for tea. "

"Yes; but I felt sure you couldn't realize how late she was in gettingout, " said Bob in a voice of honey. 

"That was entirely her own mismanagement--" began the hard tones. 

"Oh, no, Mrs. Rainham; really it wasn't, " said Cecilia mildly. "Youraccompaniments, you remember--your dress--your music, " she stopped, in amazement at herself. It was rarely indeed that she answered anyaccusation of her stepmother's. But to be on the mat at midnight, withBob in support, seemed to give her extraordinary courage. 

"You see, Mrs. Rainham, there seems to have been quite a number oflittle details that Cecilia couldn't mismanage, " said Bob, followingup the advantage. It was happily evident that his stepmother's rage waspreventing her from speaking, and, as he remarked later, there was noknowing when he would ever get such a chance again. "She really neededrest. I'm sure you'll agree that every one is entitled to some freetime. Of course, you couldn't possibly have realized that it was a weeksince she had been off duty. "

"It's her business to do what I tell her, " said Mrs. Rainham, findingher voice, in an explosive fashion that made a passing policeman glanceup curiously. "She knew I had company, and expected her help. I hadto see to the children's tea myself. And how do I know where she'sbeen?--gallivanting round to all sorts of places! I tell you, younglady, you needn't think you're going to walk in here at midnight as ifnothing was the matter. "

"I never expected to, " said Cecilia cheerfully. "But it was worth it. "

Bob regarded her in solemn admiration. 

"I don't think we gallivanted at all reprehensibly, " he said. "Justdinner and a theatre. I haven't made much claim to her time during thelast four years, Mrs. Rainham; surely I'm entitled to a little of itnow. "

"You!" Mrs. Rainham's tone was vicious. "You don't give her a home, doyou? And as long as I do, she'll do what I tell her. "

"No; I don't give her a home--yet, " said Bob very quietly. "But I verysoon will, I assure you; and meanwhile, she earns a good deal more thanher keep in her father's house. You can't treat her worse than yourservants--"

Cecilia suddenly turned to him. 

"Ah, don't, Bob darling. It doesn't matter--truly--not a bit. " With theend of the long penance before her, it seemed beyond the power of theangry woman in the doorway to hurt her much. What she could not bear wasthat their happy evening should be spoiled by hard and cruel words atits close. Bob's face, that had been so merry, was sterner than shehad ever seen it, all its boyishness gone. She put up her own face, andkissed him. 

"Good night--you mustn't stay any longer. I'll be all right. " Shewhispered a few quick words of French, begging him to go, and Bob, though unwillingly, gave in. 

"All right, " he said. "Go to bed, little 'un. I'll do as I promisedabout writing. " He saluted Mrs. Rainham stiffly. "You'll remember, Mrs. Rainham, that she stayed out solely at my wish--I take fullresponsibility, and I'll be ready to tell my father so. " The door closedbehind Cecilia, and he strode away down the street, biting his lip. Hefelt abominably as though he had deserted the little sister--and yet, what else could he do? One could not remain for ever, brawling on adoorstep at midnight--and Tommy had begged him to go. Still--

"Hang it!" he said viciously. "If she were only a decent Hun to fight!"

In the grim house in Lancaster Gate Cecilia was facing the music alone. She listened unmoved, as she had listened many times before, tothe catalogue of her sins and misdeeds--only she had never seen herstepmother quite so angry. Finally, a door above opened, and MarkRainham looked out, his dull, colourless face weakly irritable. 

"I wish you'd stop that noise, and let the girl go to bed, " he said. "Come here, Cecilia. "

She went to him hesitating, and he looked at her with a spark ofcompassion. Then he kissed her. 

"Good night, " he said, as though he had called her to him simply to sayit, and not to separate her from the furious woman who stood lookingat them. "Run off to bed, now--no more talking. " Cecilia ran upstairsobediently. Behind her, as she neared her attic, she heard herstepmother's voice break out anew. 

"Just fancy Papa!" she muttered. Any mother sensations were lost inwonder at her father's actually having intervened. The incredible thinghad happened. For a moment she felt a wave of pity for him, left aloneto face the shrill voice. Then she shrugged her shoulders. 

"Ah, well--he married her, " she said. "I suppose he has had it many atime. Perhaps he knows how to stop it--I don't!" She laughed, turningthe key in the lock, and sitting down beside the open window. Theglamour of her happy evening was still upon her; even the scene with herstepmother had not had power to chase it away. The scene was only to beexpected; the laughter of the evening was worth so every-day a penalty. And the end of Mrs. Rainham's rule was nearly in sight. Not even toherself for a moment would she admit that there was any possibility ofBob failing to "make good" and take her away. 

She went downstairs next morning to an atmosphere of sullen resentment. Her father gave her a brief, abstracted nod, in response to hergreeting, and went on with his bacon and his Daily Mail; herstepmother's forbidding expression checked any attempt at conversation. The children stared at her with a kind of malevolent curiosity; theyknew that a storm had been brewing for her the night before, and longedto know just how thoroughly she had "caught it. " Eliza, bringingin singed and belated toast, looked at her with pity, tinged withadmiration. Cook and she had been awakened at midnight by what wasevidently, in the words of Cook, "a perfickly 'orrible bust-up, " andknowing Cecilia to have been its object, Eliza looked at her as one maylook who expects to see the scars of battle. Finding none, but receivinginstead a cheerful smile, she returned to the kitchen, and reported toCook that Miss Cecilia was "nuffink less than a neroine. "

But as that day and the next wore on, Cecilia found it difficult to becheerful. That she was in disgrace was very evident, Mrs. Rainham saidno more about her sins of the night before; instead, she showed herdispleasure by a kind of cold rudeness that gave a subtle insult to hersmallest remark. The children were manifestly delighted. Cecilia wasmore or less in the position of a beetle on a pin, and theirs was theprecious opportunity of seeing her wriggle. Wherefore they adoptedtheir mother's tone, openly defied her, and turned school-hours into apandemonium. 

Cecilia at last gave up the attempt to keep order. She opened her deskand took out her knitting. 

"Well, this is all very pleasant, " she said, calmly. "You seemdetermined to do no work at all, so I can only hope that in time youwill get tired of being idle. I can't attempt to teach you any more. Iam quite ready, however, if you bring your lessons to me. "

"You'll get into a nice row from the Mater, " jeered Wilfred. 

"Very possibly. She may even punish me by finding another governess, "said Cecilia, with a twinkle. "However that may be, I do not feelcompelled to talk to such rude little children as you any more. Whenyou are able to speak politely you may come to me for anything youwant; until then, I shall not answer you. " She bent her attention to themysteries of heel-turning. 

The children were taken aback. To pinprick with rudeness a victim whoanswered back was entertaining; but there was small fun in baitinganybody who sat silently knitting with a half-smile of contempt at thecorners of her mouth. They gave it up after a time, and considered thequestion of going out; a pleasant thing to do, only that their motherhad laid upon them a special injunction not to leave Cecilia, and shewas in a mood that made disobedience extremely dangerous. Cecilia quiteunderstood that she was being watched. No letters had yet come from Bob, and she knew that her stepmother had been hovering near the letter-boxwhenever the postman had called. Mrs. Rainham had accompanied them ontheir walk the day before; a remark of Avice's revealed that she meantto do so again to-day. 

"It's all so silly, " the girl said to herself. "If I chose to dive intoa tube station or board a motor-bus she couldn't stop me; and she can'tgo on watching me and intercepting my letters indefinitely. I supposeshe will get tired of it after a while. " But meanwhile she found thespying rather amusing. Avice popped up unexpectedly if she went near thefront door; Wilfred's bullet head peeped in through the window whenevershe fancied herself alone in the schoolroom. Only her attic wassafe--since to spy upon it would have required an aeroplane. 

The third day brought no letter from Bob. Cecilia asked for her mailwhen she went down to breakfast, and was met by a blank stare from herstepmother--"I suppose if there had been any letters for you they wouldbe on your plate. " She flushed a little under the girl's direct gaze, and turned her attention to Queenie's table manners, which were at alltimes peculiar; and Cecilia sat down with a faint smile. It was time toobey orders and telegraph to Bob. 

She planned how to do it, during a long morning when the childrenactually did some work--since to be rude or idle meant that theirteacher immediately retired into her shell of silence, and knitted, andlife became too dull. To employ Eliza was her first thought--rejected, since it seemed unlikely that Eliza would be able to get time off to goout. If Mrs. Rainham's well-known dislike for walking proved too strongfor her desire to watch her stepdaughter, it would be easy enough todo it during the afternoon; but this hope proved vain, for when sheappeared in the hall with her charges at three o'clock the lady of thehouse sailed from the drawing-room, ready for the march. They moved offin procession; Mrs. Rainham leading the way, with Avice and Wilfred, while Cecilia brought up the rear, holding Queenie's podgy hand. 

She had telegraph forms in her desk, and the message, already written, and even stamped, was in the pocket of her coat. There was nothing forit but to act boldly, and accordingly, when they entered a street inwhich there was a post office, she let Queenie lag until they werea little distance behind the others. Then, as they reached the postoffice, she turned sharply in. 

"Wait a minute, Queenie. "

She thrust her message across the counter hurriedly. The clerk on dutywas provokingly slow; he finished checking a document, and then loungedacross to the window and took the form, running over it leisurely. 

"Oh, you've got the stamps on. All right, " he said, and turned away justas quick steps were heard, and Mrs. Rainham bustled in, panting. 

"What are you doing?"

Cecilia met her with steady eyes. 

"Nothing wrong, I assure you. " She had had visions of covering her realpurpose by buying stamps--but rejected it with a shrug. 

"Thethilia gave the man a pieth of paper!" said Queenie shrilly. 

"What was it? I demand to know!" cried Mrs. Rainham. She turned to theclerk, who stood open-mouthed, holding the telegram in his hand. "Showme that telegram. I am this young lady's guardian. "

The clerk grinned broadly. The stout and angry lady made no appeal tohim, and Cecilia was a pretty girl, and moreover her telegram was fora flying captain. The clerk wore a returned soldier's badge himself. Hefell back on Regulations. 

"Can't be done, ma'am. The message is all in order. "

"Let me see it. "

"Much as my billet's worth, if I did, " said the clerk. "Property of thePostmaster-General now, ma'am. Couldn't even give it back to the younglady. "

"I'll report you!" Mrs. Rainham fumed. 

"Do, ma'am. I'll get patted on the head for doin' me duty. " The clerk'sgrin widened. Cecilia wished him good afternoon gravely, and slipped outof the office, pursued by her stepmother. 

"What was in that telegram?"

"It was to my brother. "

"What was in it?"

"It was to Bob, and that is guarantee that there was nothing wrong init, " Cecilia said steadily. "It was on private business. "

"You have no right to have any business that I do not know about. "

Cecilia found her temper rising. 

"My father may have the power to say that--I do not know, " she said. "But you have none, Mrs. Rainham. "

"I'll let you see whether I have the right!" her stepmother blazed. "Fortwo pins, young lady, I'd lock you up. "

Cecilia laughed outright. 

"Ah, that's not done now, " she said. "You really couldn't, Mrs. Rainham--especially as I have done nothing wrong. " She dropped hervoice--passers-by were looking with interest at the elder woman'sface. "Why not let me go? You do not approve of me--let me find anotherposition. "

"You'll stay in your father's house, " Mrs. Rainham said. "We'll see whatthe law has to say to your leaving with your precious Bob. Yourfather's your legal guardian, and in his control you stay until you'retwenty-one, and be very thankful to make yourself useful. The law willdeal with Bob if he tries to take you away--you're a minor, and it'dbe abduction. " The word had a pleasantly legal flavour; she repeated itwith emphasis. "Abduction; that's what it is, and there's a nice penaltyfor it. Now you know, and if you don't want to get Bob into trouble, you'd best be careful. "

Cecilia had grown rather white. The law was a great and terribleinstrument, of which she knew nothing. It seemed to have swallowed upAunt Margaret's money; it might very well have left her defenceless. Herstepmother seemed familiar with its powers, and able to evoke them atwill; and though she did not trust her, there was something in her glibutterance that struck fear into the girl's heart. She did not answer, and Mrs. Rainham followed up her advantage. 

"We'll go home, " she said. "And you make up your mind to tell me whatwas in that telegram, and not to have any secrets from me. One thing Ican tell you--until you decide to behave yourself--Bob shan't show hisnose in my house, and you shan't go out to meet him, either. He onlyleads you into mischief; I don't consider he has at all a good influenceover you. The sooner he's away somewhere, earning his own living in aproper manner, the better for every one; and it'll be many a long daybefore he can give you as good a home as you've got now. " She pausedfor breath. "Anyhow, he's not going to have the chance, " she finishedgrimly. 

CHAPTER V

THE TURN OF FORTUNE'S WHEEL

"Is Mr. M'Clinton in?"

The clerk, in a species of rabbit hutch, glanced out curiously at theyoung flying officer. 

"Yes; but he's very busy. Have you an appointment?"

"No--I got leave unexpectedly. Just take him my card, will you?"

The clerk handed the card to another clerk, who passed it to anoffice-boy, who disappeared with it behind a heavy oaken door. He cameback presently. 

"Mr. M'Clinton will see you in ten minutes, if you can wait, sir. "

"I'll wait, " said Bob, sitting down upon a high stool. "Got a paper?"

"To-day's Times is here, sir. " He whisked off, to return in a momentwith the paper, neatly folded. 

"You'll find a more comfortable seat behind the screen, sir. "

"Thanks, " said Bob, regarding him with interest--he was so dapper, soalert, so all that an office-boy in a staid lawyer's establishment oughtto be. "How old might you be?"

"Fourteen, sir. "

"And are you going to grow into a lawyer?"

"I'm afraid I'll never do that, sir, " said the office-boy gravely. "Imay be head clerk, perhaps. But--" he stopped, confused. 

"But what?"

"I'd rather fly, sir, than anything in the world!" He lookedworshippingly at Bob's uniform. "If the war had only not stopped beforeI was old enough, I might have had a chance!"

"Oh, you'll have plenty of chances, " Bob told him consolingly. "In fiveyears' time you'll be taking Mr. M'Clinton's confidential papers acrossto Paris in an aeroplane--and bringing him back a reply before lunch!"

"Do you think so, sir?" The office-boy's eyes danced. Suddenly heresumed his professional gravity. 

"I must get back to my work, sir. " He disappeared behind anotherpartition; the office seemed to Bob to be divided into water-tightcompartments, in each of which he imagined that a budding lawyer or headclerk was being brought up by hand. It was all rather grim and solid andforbidding. To Bob the law had always been full of mystery; this grey, silent office, in the heart of the city, was a fitting place for it. He felt a little chill at his heart, a foreboding that no comfort couldcome of his mission there. 

The inner door opened, after a little while, and a woman in black cameout. She passed hurriedly through the outer office, pulling down herveil over a face that showed traces of tears. Bob looked after hercompassionately. 

"Poor soul!" he thought. "She's had her gruel, evidently. Now I supposeI'll get mine. "

A bell whirred sharply. The alert office-boy sprang to the summons, returning immediately. 

"Mr. M'Clinton can see you now, sir. "

Bob followed him through the oaken door, and along a narrow passage to aroom where a spare, grizzled man sat at a huge roll-top desk. He rose asthe boy shut the door behind his visitor. 

"Well, Captain Rainham. How do you do?"

Bob gripped the lean hand offered him--it felt like a claw in his greatpalm. Then he sat down and looked uncomfortably at the lawyer. 

"I had thought to have seen you here before, Captain. "

"I suppose I should have shown up, " said Bob--concealing the fact thatthe idea had never occurred to him. "But I've been very busy since I'vebeen back to England. "

"And what brings you now?"

"I'm all but demobilized, " Bob told him, "and I'm trying to getemployment. "

"What--in this office?"

"Heavens, no!" ejaculated Bob, and at once turned a fine red. "Thatis--I beg your pardon, sir; but I'm afraid I'm not cut out for anoffice. I want to get something to do in the country, where I cansupport my sister. "

"Your sister? But does not your father support her? She is an inmate ofhis house, is she not?"

"Very much so, " said Bob bitterly. "She's governess, and lady-help, anda good many other things. You couldn't call it a home. Besides, we havealways been together. I want to take her away. "

"And what does your father say?"

"He says she mustn't go. At least, that's what my stepmother says, so myfather will certainly say it too. "

"Your sister is under age, I think?"

"She's just nineteen--I'm over twenty-two. Can my father prevent hergoing with me, sir?"

"Mph, " said the lawyer, pondering. "Do I gather that the young lady isunhappy?"

"If she isn't, it's because she has pluck enough for six people, andbecause she always hopes to get away. "

"And do you consider that you could support her?"

"I don't know, " said Bob unhappily. "I would certainly have thoughtI could, but there seems mighty little chance for a fellow whose onlyqualification is that he's been fighting Huns for nearly five years. I've answered advertisements and interviewed people until my brainreels; but there's nothing in it, and I can't leave Tommy there. "

"Tommy?" queried the lawyer blankly. 

Bob laughed. 

"My sister, I mean, sir. Her name's Cecilia, but, of course, we've nevercalled her that. Even Aunt Margaret called her Tommy. "

Mr. M'Clinton made no reply. He thought deeply for a few moments. Thenhe looked up, and there was a glint of kindness in his hard grey eyes. 

"I think you had better tell me all about it, Captain Rainham. Would itassist you to smoke?"

"Thanks awfully, sir, " said Bob, accepting the proffered cigarette. He plunged into his story; and if at times it was a trifle incoherent, principally from honest wrath, yet on the whole Cecilia's caselost nothing in the telling. The lawyer nodded from time to time, comprehendingly. 

"Aye, " he said at last, when Bob paused. "Just so, just so. And why didyou come to me, Captain?"

"I want your advice, sir, " Bob answered. "And I should like to knowsomething about my aunt's property--if I can hope for any help from thatsource. I should have more chance of success if I had a little capitalto start with. But I understand that most of it was lost. My fatherseemed very disappointed over the small amount she left. " He hesitated. "But apart from money, I should like to know if I am within the law intaking my sister away. "

Mr. M'Clinton thought deeply before replying. 

"I had better speak frankly to you, Captain Rainham, " he said. "Youraunt, as you probably know, did not like your father. I am not sure thatshe actually distrusted him. But she considered him weak and indolent, and she recognized that he was completely under the thumb of his secondwife. Your late aunt, my old friend, had an abhorrence for that ladythat was quaint, considering that she had scarcely ever seen her. " Hepermitted himself the ghost of a smile. "She was deeply afraid of any ofher property coming under the control of your father--and through him, of his wife. And so she tied up her money very carefully. She leftdirect to you and your sister certain assets. The rest of her propertyshe left, in trust, to me. "

"To you, sir?"

"Aye. Very carefully tied up, too, " said Mr. M'Clinton, with a twinkle. "I can't make ducks and drakes of it, no matter how much I may wish to. It is tied up until your sister comes of age. Then my trust ceases. "

"By Jove!" Bob stared at him. "Then--do we get something?"

"Certainly. Unfortunately, many of your aunt's investments were veryhard hit through the war. Certain stocks which paid large dividendsceased to pay altogether; others fell to very little. The sum left toyou and your sister for immediate use should have been very much larger, but all that is left of it is the small allowance paid to you both. I imagine that a smart young officer like yourself found it scarcelysufficient for tobacco. "

"I've saved it all, " said Bob simply. "A bit more, too. "

"Saved it!" said the lawyer in blank amazement. "Do you tell me, now?You lived on your pay?"

"Flying pay's pretty good, " said Bob. "And there was always Tommy tothink of, you know, sir. I had to put something away for her, in case Icrashed. "

"Dear me, " said Mr. M'Clinton. "Your aunt had great confidence in youas a boy, and it seems she was justified. I'm very glad to hear this, Captain, for it enables me to do with a clear conscience something whichI have the power to do. There is a discretionary clause in your aunt'swill, which gives me power to realize a certain sum of money, should youneed it. I could hand you over about three thousand pounds. "

"Three thousand!" Bob stared at him blankly. 

"Aye. And I see no reason why I should not do it--provided I amsatisfied as to the use you will make of it. As a matter of form Ishould like a letter from your commanding officer, testifying to yourgeneral character. "

"That's easy enough, " said Bob. "But--three thousand! My hat, what adifference it will make to Tommy and me! Poor old Aunt Margaret--I mighthave known she'd look after us. "

"She loved you very dearly. And now, Captain, about your sister. "

"She's the big thing, " said Bob. "Can I kidnap her?"

"It's rather difficult to say just how your father might act. Leftto himself, I do not believe he would do anything. But urged by yourstepmother, he might make trouble. And the good lady is more likelyto make trouble if she suspects that there is any money coming to yoursister. "

"That's very certain, " Bob remarked. "I wish to goodness I could get herright out of England, sir. How about Canada?"

The lawyer pondered. 

"Do you know any one there?"

"Not a soul. But I suppose one could get introductions. And one canalways get Government expert advice there, I believe, to prevent onechucking away one's money foolishly. "

Mr. M'Clinton nodded approvingly. 

"I don't know, but you might do worse, " he said. "I believe in thesenew countries for young people; the old ones are getting overcrowdedand worn out. And your relations are likely to give trouble if youare within their reach. A terrible woman, that stepmother of yours; aterrible woman. She came to see me with your father; he said nothing, but she talked like a mill-race. Miss Tommy has my full sympathy. A brawling woman in a wide house, as the Scripture says. I reproachmyself, Captain, that I did not inquire personally into Miss Tommy'swell-being. She told you nothing of her trials, you say, during thewar?"

"Not a word. Wrote as if life were a howling joke always. I only foundout for myself by accident a few months ago. "

"A brave lassie. Well, I'll do what I can to help you, Captain. I'll keep a lookout for a likely land investment for your money, andendeavour to prepare a good legal statement to frighten Mrs. Rainhamif she objects to your taking your sister away. Much may be done bybluffing, especially if you do it very solemnly and quietly. So keep agood heart, and come and see me next time you're in London. Miss Tommywill be in any day, I presume, after the telegram you told me about?"

"Sure to be, " said Bob. "She'll be anxious for her letters. I'm leavingone for her, if you don't mind, and I'll write to her again to-night. "He got up, holding out his hand. "Good-bye--and I don't know how tothank you, sir. "

"Bless the boy--you've nothing to thank me for, " said the lawyer. "Justsend me that letter from your commanding officer, and remember thatthere's no wild hurry about plans--Miss Tommy can stand for a few weekslonger what she has borne for two years. "

"I suppose she can--but I don't want her to, " Bob said. 

The brisk office-boy showed him out, and he marched down the greystreets near Lincoln's Inn with his chin well up. Life had taken asudden and magical turn for the better. Three thousand pounds!--surelythat meant no roughing it for Tommy, but a comfortable home and achance of success in life. It seemed a sum of enormous possibilities. Everything was very vague still, but at least the money was certain--itseemed like fairy gold. He felt a sudden desire to get away somewhere, with Tommy, away from crowded England to a country where a man couldbreathe; his heart rejoiced at the idea, just as he had often exultedwhen his aeroplane had lifted him away from the crowded, buzzing camp, into the wide, free places of the air. Canada called to him temptingly. His brain was seething with plans to go there when, waiting for a chanceto cross a crowded thoroughfare, he heard his own name. 

"Asleep, Rainham?"

Bob looked up with a start. General Harran, the Australian, was besidehim, also waiting for a break in the crawling string of motor-buses andtaxi-cabs. He was smiling under his close-clipped moustache. 

"I beg your pardon, sir, " stammered the boy, coming to the salutestiffly. "I was in a brown study, I believe. "

"You looked it. I spoke to you twice before you heard me. What isit?--demobilization problems?"

"Just that, sir, " said Bob, grinning. "Most of us have got them, Isuppose--fellows of my age, anyhow. It's a bit difficult to come down toearth again, after years spent in the air. "

"Very difficult, " Harran agreed gravely. He glanced down with interestat the alert face and square-built figure of the boy beside him. Therewere so many of them, these boys who had played with Death for years. They have saved their country from horror and ruin, and now it seemedvery doubtful if their country wanted them. They were in every town inEngland, looking for work; their pitiful, plucky advertisements greetedthe eye in every newspaper. The problem of their future interestedGeneral Harran keenly. He liked his boys; their freshness and pluck andunspoiled enthusiasm had been a tonic to him during the long years ofwar. Now it hurt him that they should be looking for the right to live. 

"I'm just going to lunch, Rainham, " he said. "Would you care to comewith me?"

Bob lifted a quaintly astonished face. 

"Thanks, awfully, sir, " he stammered. 

"Then jump on this 'bus, and we'll go to my club, " said the General, swinging his lean, athletic body up the stairs of a passing motor-'busas he spoke. Bob followed, and they sped, rocking, through the packedtraffic until the General, who had sat in silence, jumped up, threadedhis way downstairs, and dropped to the ground again from the footboardof the hurrying 'bus--with a brief shake of the head to the conductor, who was prepared to check the speed of his craft to accommodate apassenger with such distinguished badges of rank. Bob was on the groundalmost as quickly, and they turned out of the crowded street intoa quieter one that presently led them into a silent square, wheredignified grey houses looked out upon green trees, and the only trafficwas that of gliding motors. General Harran led the way into one of thegrey houses, up the steps of which officers were constantly comingand going. A grizzled porter in uniform, with the Crimean medal on histunic, swung the door open and came smartly to attention as they passedthrough. The General greeted him kindly. 

"How are you, O'Shea? The rheumatism better?"

"It is, sir, thank you. " They passed on, through a great hall lined withoil-paintings of famous soldiers, and trophies of big game from allover the world; for this was a Service club, bearing a proud record ofsoldier and sailor members for a hundred years. Presently they were inthe dining-room, already crowded. The waiter found them a little tablein a quiet corner. 

There was a sprinkling of men whom Bob already knew; he caught severalfriendly nods of recognition us he glanced round. Then General Harranpointed out others to him--Generals, whose names were household words inEngland--a notable Admiral, and a Captain with the V. C. Ribbon--earnedat Zeebrugge. He seemed to know every one, and once or twice he left hisseat to speak to a friend--during which absence Bob's friends shot himamazed glances, with eyebrows raised in astonishment that he should belunching with a real Major-General. Bob was somewhat tongue-tied withbewilderment over the fact himself. But when their cold beef came, General Harran soon put him at his ease, leading him to talk of himselfand his plans with quiet tact. Before Bob fairly realized it he hadunfolded all his little story--even to Tommy and her hardships. TheGeneral listened with interest. 

"And was it Tommy I saw you with on Saturday?"

"Yes, sir. She was awfully interested because it was you, " blurted Bob. "You see, she and I have always been pals. I'm jolly keen to get someplace to take her to. "

"And you think of Canada. Why?"

"Well--I really don't know, except that it would be out of reach ofEngland and unpleasantness, " Bob answered. "And my money would go a lotfurther there than here, wouldn't it, sir? Three thousand won't buy muchof a place in England--not to make one's living by, I mean. "

"That's true. I advise every youngster to get out to one of the newcountries, and, of course, a man with a little capital has a far greaterchance. But why Canada? Why not Australia?"

"There's no reason why not, " said Bob laughing. "Only it seems furtheraway. I don't know more of one country than the other--except the sortof vague idea we all have that Canada is all cold and Australia allheat!"

General Harran laughed. 

"Yes--the average Englishman's ideas about the new countries are prettysketchy, " he said. "People always talk to me about the fearfully hotclimate of Australia, and seem mildly surprised if I remark that we haveabout a dozen different climates, and that we have snow and ice, andvery decent winter sports, in Victoria. I don't think they believe me, either. But seriously, Rainham, if you have no more leaning towards onecountry than the other, why not think of Australia? I could help youthere, if you like. "

"You, sir!" Bob stammered. 

"Well, I can pull strings. I dare say I could manage a passage out foryou and your sister--you see, you were serving with the Australians, and you're both desirable immigrants--young and energetic people witha little capital. That would be all right, I think, especially now thatthe first rush is over. And I could give you plenty of introductions inAustralia to the right sort of people. You ought to see something of thecountry, and what the life and work are, before investing your money. It would be easy enough to get you on to a station or big farm--you tolearn the business, and your sister to teach or help in the house. Shewouldn't mind that for about a year, with nice people, would she?"

"Not she!" said Bob. "It was her own idea, in fact; only I didn't wantto let her work. But I can see that it might be best. Only I don't knowhow to thank you, sir--I never imagined--"

General Harran cut him short. 

"Don't worry about that. If I can help you, or any of the flying boys, out of a difficulty, and at the same time get the right type of settlersfor Australia--she needs them badly--then I'm doing a double-barrelledjob that I like. But see here--do I understand that what you reallywant to do is to take your sister without giving your father warning? Tokidnap her, in short?"

"I don't see anything else to do, sir. I spoke to him a while ago abouttaking her away, and he only hummed and hawed and said he'd consult Mrs. Rainham. And my stepmother will never let her go as long as she can keepher as a drudge. We owe them nothing--he's never been a father to us, and as for my stepmother--well, she should owe Tommy for two years' hardwork. But honestly, to all intents and purposes, they are strangersto us--it seems absolutely ridiculous that we should be controlled bythem. "

"You say your aunt's family lawyer approves?"

"Yes, or he wouldn't let me have the money. I could get him to see you, sir, if you like; though I don't see why you should be bothered aboutus, " said Bob flushing. 

"Give me his address--I'll look in on him next time I'm in Lincoln'sInn, " said the General. "Your own, too. Now, if I get you and yoursister passages on a troopship, can you start at short notice--sayforty-eight hours?"

Bob gasped, but recovered himself. After all, his training in the airhad taught him to make swift decisions. 

"Any time after the fifteenth, sir. I'll be demobilized then, and a freeagent. I'll get my kit beforehand. "

"Don't get much, " counselled the General. "You can travel inuniform--take flannels for the tropics; everything you need in Australiayou can get just as well, or better, out there. Most fellows who go outtake tons of unnecessary stuff. Come into the smoking-room and give me afew more details. "

They came out upon the steps of the club a little later. Bob's head waswhirling. He tried to stammer out more thanks and was cut short, kindlybut decisively. 

"That's all right, my boy. I'll send you letters of introduction tovarious people who will help you, and a bit of advice about where to gowhen you land. Tell your sister not to be nervous--she isn't going to awild country, and the people there are much the same as anywhere else. Now, good-bye, and good luck"; and Bob found himself walking across theSquare in a kind of solemn amazement. 

"This morning I was thinking of getting taken on as a farm hand inDevonshire, with Tommy somewhere handy in a labourer's cottage, " hepondered. "And now I'm a bloated capitalist, and Tommy and I are goingacross the world to Australia as calmly as if we were off to Margatefor the day! Well, I suppose it's only a dream, and I'll wake up soon. I guess I'd better go back and tell Mr. M'Clinton; and I've got to seeTommy somehow. " He bent his brows over the problem as he turned towardsLincoln's Inn. 

CHAPTER VI

SAILING ORDERS

"Are you there, miss?"

The sepulchral whisper came faintly to Cecilia's ears as she sat in herlittle room, sewing a frock of Queenie's. The children were out in thegarden at the back of the house. Mrs. Rainham was practising in thedrawing-room. The sound of a high trill floated upwards as she openedthe door. 

"What is it, Eliza?"

"It's a letter, miss. A kid brought it to the kitchen door--a bit of aboy. Arsked for me as if 'e'd known me all 'is life--called me Elizer!'E's waitin' for an answer. I'll wait in me room, miss, till you callsme. " The little Cockney girl slipped away, revelling in furthering anyscheme to defeat Mrs. Rainham and help Cecilia. 

Cecilia opened the letter hurriedly. It contained only one line. 

"Can you come at once to Lincoln's Inn? Important. --BOB. "

Cecilia knitted her brows. It was nearly a month since the memorableevening when she and Bob had revolted; and though she was still madeto feel herself in disgrace, and she knew her letters were watched, theclose spying upon her movements had somewhat relaxed. It had beentoo uncomfortable for Mrs. Rainham to keep it up, since it made heavydemands upon her own time, and interfered with too many plans; moreover, in spite of it, Cecilia had slipped away from the house two or threetimes, going and coming openly, and replying to any questions by thesimple answer that she had been to meet Bob. Angry outbreaks on the partof her stepmother she received in utter silence, against which the wavesof Mrs. Rainham's wrath spent themselves in vain. 

Indeed, the girl lived in a kind of waking dream of happy anticipation, beside which none of the trials of life in Lancaster Gate had power totrouble her. For on her first stolen visit to Mr. M'Clinton's office thewonderful plan of flight to Australia had been revealed to her, and thejoy of the prospect blotted out everything else. Mr. M'Clinton, watchingher face, had been amazed by the wave of delight that had swept over it. 

"You like it, then?" he had said. "You are not afraid to go so far?"

"Afraid--with Bob? Oh, the farther I can get from England the better, "she had answered. "I have no friends here; nothing to leave, except thememory of two bad years. And out there I should feel safe--she could notget a policeman to bring me back. " There was no need to ask who "she"was. 

Cecilia had made her preparations secretly. She had not much to do--AuntMargaret had always kept her well dressed, and the simple and prettythings she had worn two years before, and which had never been unpackedsince she put on mourning for her aunt, still fitted her, and wereperfectly good. It had never seemed worth while to leave off wearingmourning in Lancaster Gate--only when Bob had come home had she unpackedsome of her old wardrobe. Much was packed still, and in store under Mr. M'Clinton's direction, together with many of Aunt Margaret's personalpossessions. It was as well that it was so, since Mrs. Rainham hadmanaged to annex a proportion of Cecilia's things for Avice. ToLancaster Gate she had only taken a couple of trunks, not dreaming ofstaying there more than a short time. So packing and flitting would beeasy, given ordinary luck and the certain co-operation of Eliza. Her fewnecessary purchases had been made on one of her hurried excursions withBob; she had not dared to have the things sent home, and they had beenconsigned in a tin uniform case to Bob's care. 

She pondered over his note now, knitting her brows. It would be easyenough to act defiantly and go at once; but if this meant that thefinal flight were near at hand she did not wish to excite anew herstepmother's anger and suspicion. Then, as she hesitated, she heard aheavy step on the stairs, and she crushed the note hurriedly into herpocket. 

Mrs. Rainham came into the room without the formality of knocking--aformality she had never observed where Cecilia was concerned. Theafternoon post had just come, and she carried some letters in her hand. 

"Cecilia, I want you to put on your things and go to Balding's for me, "she said, her voice more civil than it had been for a month. "I'm askedup to Liverpool for a few days; my sister there is giving a big AtHome--an awfully big thing, with the Lady Mayoress and all the BestPeople at it--and she wants me to go up. I suppose she'll want me tosing. "

"That is nice, " said Cecilia, speaking with more truth than Mrs. Rainhamguessed. "What will you wear?"

"That's just it, " said her stepmother eagerly. "My new evening dressisn't quite finished--we ran short of trimming. I can't go out, becausethe Simons are coming in to afternoon tea; so you just hurry and go overto Balding's to match it. I got it there, and they had plenty. Here'sa bit. " She held out a fragment of gaudy sequin trimming. "I think youcould finish the dress without me getting in the dressmaker again--she'sthat run after she makes a regular favour of coming. "

"Very well, " said Cecilia--who would, at the moment, have agreed to sewanything or everything that might hasten her stepmother's journey. "Whendo you go?"

"The day after to-morrow. I'll stay there a few days, I suppose; notworth going so far for only one evening. Mind, Cecilia, you're not tohave Bob here while I'm away. When I come back, if I'm satisfied withyou, I'll see about asking him again. "

"That is very good of you, " said the girl slowly. 

"Well, that's all right--you hurry and get ready; there's always achance they may have sold out, because it was a bargain line, and ifthey have you'll have to try other places. I don't know what on earthI'll do if you can't match it. " She turned to go, and then hesitated. "Iwas thinking you might take Avice with you--but you'll get about quickeralone, and she isn't ready. The tubes and buses are that crowded it'sno catch to take a child about with you. " In moments of excitementMrs. Rainham's English was apt to slip from her. At other timesshe cultivated it carefully, assisted by a dramatic class, which anenthusiastic maiden lady, with leanings towards the stage, conductedeach winter among neighbouring kindred souls. 

Cecilia had caught her breath in alarm, but she breathed a sigh ofrelief as the stout, over-dressed figure went down the narrow stairs, with a final injunction to hurry. There was, indeed, no need to giveCecilia that particular command. She scribbled one word, "Coming, " onBob's note, thrust it into an envelope and addressed it hastily, andthen tapped on the wall between the servants' room and her own. 

Eliza appeared with the swiftness of a Jack-in-the-box, full ofsuppressed excitement. 

"Lor! I fought she was never goin', " she breathed. "Got it ready, Miss?The boy'll fink I've gorn an' eloped wiv it. " She took the envelope andpattered swiftly downstairs. 

A very few moments saw Cecilia flying in her wake--to Balding's first, as quickly as tube and motor-bus could combine to take her, sinceshe dared not breathe freely until Mrs. Rainham's commission had beensettled. Balding's had never seemed so huge and so complicated, and whenshe at length made her way to the right department the suave assistantregretted that the trimming was sold out. It was Cecilia's face of blankdismay that made him suddenly remember that there was possibly an oddlength somewhere, and a search revealed it, put away in a box of oddsand ends. Cecilia's thanks were so heartfelt that the assistant wasmildly surprised. 

"For she don't seem the sort to wear ghastly stuff like that, " hepondered, glancing after the pretty figure in the well-cut coat andskirt. 

Outside the great shop Cecilia glanced up and caught the eye of ataxi-driver who had just set down a fare. 

"I'll be extravagant for once, " she thought. She beckoned to the man, and in a moment was whirring through the streets in the peculiar comforta motor gives to anyone in a hurry in London--since it can takedirect routes instead of following the roundabout methods of buses andunderground railways. She leaned back, closing her eyes. If this summonsto Bob indeed meant that their sailing orders had come, she would needall her wits and her coolness. For the first time she realized what herstepmother's absence from home might mean--a thousandfold less plottingand planning, and no risk of a horrible scene at the end. Cecilialoathed scenes; they had not existed in Aunt Margaret's scheme ofexistence. Since Bob's plans had become at all definite, she had lookedforward with dread to a final collision with Mrs. Rainham--it was untoldrelief to know that it might not come. 

She hurried up the steps of Mr. M'Clinton's office. The alert officeboy--who had been Bob's messenger to Lancaster Gate--met her. 

"You're to go straight in, miss. The Captain's there. "

Bob was in the inner sanctum with Mr. M'Clinton. They rose to meet her. 

"Well--are you ready, young lady?" the old man asked. 

"Is it--are we to sail soon?"

"Next Saturday--and this is Monday. Can you manage it, Tommy?" Bob'seyes were dancing with excitement. 

"Oh, Bobby--truly?" She caught at his coat sleeve. "When did you hear?"

"I had a wire from General Harran this morning. A jolly good ship, too, Tommy; one of the big Australian liners--the Nauru. You're all ready, aren't you?"

"Oh, yes. And there's the most tremendous piece of luck, Bobby--Mrs. Rainham's going away on Wednesday!"

"Going away! How more than tactful!" ejaculated Bob. "Where is shegoing?"

"To Liverpool. "

"Liverpool? Oh, by Jove!" Bob ended on a low whistle, while his faceassumed a comical expression of dismay. He turned to the lawyer. "Didyou ever hear of anything so queer?"

"Queer? Why?" demanded Cecilia. 

"Well, it looks as if she wanted to see the last of you, that's all. TheNauru sails from Liverpool. "

"Bobby!" Cecilia's face fell. "I thought we went from Gravesend orTilbury, or somewhere. "

"So did I. But the General's wire says Liverpool, so it seems we don't, "said Bob. "And that she-dragon is going there too!"

"I don't think you need really worry, " Mr. M'Clinton said drily. "Liverpool is not exactly a village. The chances are that if you wentthere, trying to meet some one, you would hunt for him for a week invain. And you'll probably go straight from the train to the docks, sothat you won't be in the least likely to encounter Mrs. Rainham. "

"Why, of course, we'd never run into her in a huge place likeLiverpool, " Bob said, laughing. "Don't be afraid, Tommy--you'll haveseen the last of her when you say good-bye on Wednesday. "

"It seems too good to be true, " said Cecilia solemnly. "I remember howI felt once before, when she went away to visit her sister in Liverpool;the beautiful relief when one woke, to think that not all through theday would one even have to look at her. It's really very terrible tolook at her often; her white face and hard eyes seem to fascinate one. Oh, I don't suppose I ought to talk like that, especially here. " Shelooked shamefacedly at Mr. M'Clinton, and blushed scarlet. 

Both men laughed. 

"The good lady had something of the same effect on me, " Mr. M'Clintonadmitted. "I found her a very terrible person. Cheer up, Miss Tommy, you've nearly finished with her. And, now, what about getting you away?"

Cecilia turned to her brother. 

"What am I to do, Bob?"

"We'll have to go to Liverpool on Friday, " Bob replied promptly. "Ican't find out the Nauru's sailing time, and it isn't safe to leave ituntil Saturday. There's a train somewhere about two o'clock that gets upsomewhere about seven or eight that evening. Mr. M'Clinton and I don'twant to leave it to the last moment to get your luggage away fromLancaster Gate. Can you have it ready the night before?"

"It would really be safer to take it in the afternoon, " Cecilia saidafter a moment's thought. "Mrs. Rainham's absence will make that quiteeasy, for I know I can depend upon Eliza and Cook. I can get my trunksready, leave them in my room, and tell Eliza you will be there to callfor them, say, at four o'clock. Then I take the three children out for awalk, and when we return everything is gone. Will that do?"

"Perfectly, " said Bob, laughing. "And four o'clock suits me all right. Then you'll saunter out on Friday morning with an inoffensive brownpaper parcel containing the rest of your worldly effects, and meet mefor lunch at the Euston Hotel. Is that clear?"

"Quite. I suppose I had better put no address on my trunks?"

"Not a line--I'll see to that. And don't even mention the word'Australia' this week, just in case your eye dances unconsciously, andsets people thinking! I think you'd better cultivate a downtrodden look, at any rate until Mrs Rainham is out of the house; at present you lookfar too cheerful to be natural--doesn't she, sir?"

"You have to see to it that she does not look downtrodden again, afterthis week, " said Mr. M'Clinton. "Remember that, Captain--she's going along way, and she'll have no one but you. "

"I know, sir. But, bless you, it's me that will look downtrodden, " saidBob with a grin. "She bullies me horribly--always did. " He slipped hishand through her arm, and they looked up at him with such radiant facesthat the old man smiled involuntarily. 

"Ah, I think you'll be all right, " he said. "Remember, Miss Tommy, I'llexpect to hear from you--fairly often, too. I shall not say good-byenow--you'll see me on Friday at luncheon. "

They found themselves down in the grey precincts of Lincoln's Inn, which, it may be, had rarely seen two young things prancing along sodementedly. In the street they had to sober down, to outward seeming;but there was still something about them, as they hurried off to find ateashop to discuss final details, that made people turn to look atthem. Even the waitress beamed on them, and supplied them with herbest cakes--and London waitresses are a bored race. But at the moment, neither Cecilia nor Bob could have told you whether they were eatingcakes or sausages. 

"The money is all right, " Bob said. "It'll be available at a Melbournebank when we get there; and meanwhile, there's plenty of ready money, with what I've saved and my war gratuity. So if you want anything, Tommy, you just say so, and don't go without any pretties just becauseyou think we'll be in the workhouse. "

"Bless you--but I don't really need anything, " she told him gratefully. "It would be nice to have a little money to spend at the ports, but Ithink we ought to keep the rest for Australia, don't you, Bob?"

"Oh, yes, of course; but you're not to go without a few pounds if youwant 'em, " said Bob. "And, Tommy, don't leave meeting me on Friday untillunch time. I'll be worrying if you do, just in case things may havegone wrong. Make it eleven o'clock at the Bond Street tube exit, and ifyou're not there in half an hour I'll jolly well go and fetch you. "

"I'll be there, " Cecilia nodded. "You had better give me the half-hour'sgrace, though, in case I might be held up at the last moment. One neverknows--and Avice and Wilfred are excellent little watchdogs. "

"Anyhow, you won't have the she-dragon to reckon with, and that's abig thing, " Bob said. "I don't see how you can have any trouble--Papacertainly will not give you any. "

"No, he won't bother, " said Cecilia slowly. "It's queer to think howlittle he counts--our own father. "

"A pretty shoddy apology for one, I think, " Bob said bitterly. "What hashe ever done for us? But I'd forgive him that when I can't forgive himsomething else--the way he has let you be treated these two years. "

"He hasn't known everything, Bobby. "

"He has known quite enough. And if he had the spirit of a man he'd havesaved you from it. No; we don't owe him any consideration, Tommy; andhe saw to it years ago that we should never owe him any affection. Sowe really needn't worry our heads about him. By the way, there are to besome Australians on the Nauru who General Harran says may be of use tous--I don't remember their names, but he's going to give me a letterto them. And probably there will be some other flying people whom I mayknow. I think the voyage ought to be rather good fun. "

"I think so, too. It will be exciting to be on a troopship, " Ceciliasaid. "But, then, anything will be heavenly after Lancaster Gate!"

She hurried home, as soon as the little meal was over, knowing thatMrs. Rainham would be impatiently awaiting her. Luckily, her success inmatching the trimming made her stepmother forget how long she had beenaway; and from that moment until a welcome four-wheeler removed themistress of the house on Wednesday, she sewed and packed for herunceasingly. Her journey excited Mrs. Rainham greatly. She talkedalmost affably of her sister's grandeur, and of the certainty of meetingwealthy and gorgeously dressed people at her party. 

"Not that I'll be at all ashamed of my dress, " she added, looking atthe billowy waves on which Cecilia was plastering yet more trimming. "Unusual and artistic, that's what it is; and it'll show off my hair. Don't forget the darning when I'm gone, Cecilia. There's a tablecloth tomend, as well as the stockings. I'll be home on Saturday night, unlessthey persuade me to stay over the week-end. "

Cecilia nodded, sewing busily. 

"And just see if you can't get on a bit better with the children. You'vegot to make allowances for their high spirits, and treat them tactfully. Of course you can't expect them to be as obedient to you as they wouldbe to a regular governess, you being their own half-sister, and not somuch older than Avice, after all. But tact does wonders, especially withchildren. "

"Yes, " said Cecilia, and said no more. 

"Well, just bear it in mind. I don't suppose you'll see much of yourfather, so you needn't worry about him. But don't let Eliza gossip andidle; she never does any work if she's not kept up to it, and you knowyou're much too familiar with her. Always keep girls like her at adistance, and they'll work all the better, that's what I say. Treat heras an equal, and the next thing you know she'll be trying on your hats!"

"I haven't caught Eliza at that yet, " said Cecilia with the ghost of asmile. 

"It'll come, though, if you're not more stand-offish with her--you markmy words. Keep them in their place--that's what I always do with myservants and governesses, " said Mrs. Rainham without the slightest ideathat she was saying anything peculiar. "Now, I'll go and put my thingsout on my bed, and as soon as you've finished that you can come up andpack for me. "

Cecilia stood at the hall door that afternoon to watch her go--bustlinginto the cab, with loud directions to the cabman, her hard face full ofself-importance and satisfaction. The plump hand waved a highly scentedhandkerchief as the clumsy four-wheeler moved off. 

"To think I'll never see you again!" breathed the girl. "It seems toogood to be true!"

A kind of wave of relief seemed to have descended upon the house. Thechildren were openly exulting in having no one to obey; an attitudewhich, in the circumstances, failed to trouble their half-sister. Elizawent about her work with a cheery face; even Cook, down in the basement, manifested lightness of heart by singing love songs in a cracked sopranoand by making scones for afternoon tea. Mark Rainham did not come homeuntil late--he had announced his intention of dining at his club. Latein the evening he sauntered into the dining-room, where Cecilia satsewing. 

"Still at it?" he asked. He sat down and poked the fire. "What are yousewing?"

"Just darning, " Cecilia told him. 

He sat looking at her for a while--at the pretty face and thewell-tended hair; and who shall say what thoughts stirred in his dullbrain?

"You look a bit pale, " he said at last. "Do you go out enough?"

"Oh, yes, I think so, " Cecilia answered in astonishment. Not in twoyears had he shown so much interest in her; and it braced her to asudden resolve. She had never been quite satisfied to leave him withouta word; whatever he was, he was still her father. She put her darning onher knee, and looked at him gravely. 

"You know Bob is demobilized, don't you, Papa?"

"Yes--he told me so, " Mark Rainham answered. 

"And you know he wants to take me away?"

Her father's eyes wavered and fell before her. 

"Oh, yes--but the idea's ridiculous, I'm afraid. You're under age, andyour stepmother won't hear of it. " He poked the fire savagely. 

"But if Bob could make a home for me! We have always been together, youknow, Papa. "

"Oh, well--wait and see. Time enough when you're twenty-one, and yourown mistress; Bob will have had a chance to make good by then. I--Ican't oppose my wife in the matter--she says she's not strong enough todo without your help. "

"But she never seems satisfied with me. "

Mark Rainham rose with an irritably nervous movement. 

"Oh, no one is ever perfect. I suspect, if each of you went a littleway to meet the other, things would be better. Your stepmother says hernerves are all wrong, and I'm sure you do take a great deal of troubleoff her shoulders. "

"Then you won't let me go?" The girl's low voice was relentless, andher father wriggled as though he were a beetle and she were pinning himdown. 

"I--I'm afraid it's out of the question, Cecilia. I should have to bevery satisfied first that Bob could offer you a home--and by that timehe'll probably be thinking of getting married, and won't want you. Whycan't you settle down comfortably to living at home?"

"There isn't any home for me apart from Bob, " said the girl. 

"Well, I can't help it. " Mark Rainham's voice had a hopeless tone. Hewalked to the door, and then half turned. "If you can make my wife agreeto your going, I won't forbid it. Good night. "

"Good night, " said Cecilia. The slow footsteps went up the stairs, andshe turned to her darning with a lip that curled in scorn. 

"Well, that let's me out. I don't owe you anything--not even a good-byenote on my pincushion, " she said presently; and laughed a little. Shefolded a finished pair of socks deliberately, and, rising, stretchedher arms luxuriously above her head. "Two more days, " she whispered. Sheswitched off the light, and crept noiselessly upstairs. 

CHAPTER VII

THE WATCH DOGS

"Well, if you ask me, she's up to something, " said Avice withconviction. 

"How d'you mean?" Wilfred looked up curiously. 

"Lots of things. She looks all different. First of all--look how red sheis all the time, and the excited look in her eyes. "

"That's all look--look!" jeered her brother. "Girls always have thoserotten ideas about nothing at all. Just because Cecilia's got a bitsunburnt, and because she's havin' an easy time 'cause Mater's away--"

"Oh, you think because you're a boy, you know everything, " retorted hissister hotly. "You just listen, and see if I've got rotten ideas. Didyou know, she's kept her room locked for days?"

"Well--if she has? That's nothing. "

"You shut up and let me go on. Yesterday she forgot, and left it openwhile she was down talking to Cook, and I slipped in. And there wasone of her great big trunks, that she always keeps in the box room, half-packed with her things. I nicked this necklace out of it, too, "said Avice with triumph, producing a quaint string of Italian beads. 

"Good business, " said Wilfred with an appreciative grin. "Did she catchyou?"

"Not she--I can tell you I didn't wait long, 'cause she always comesupstairs as quick as lightning. She did come, too, in an awful hurry, and locked up the room--I only got out of the way just in time. Andevery minute she could, yesterday, she was up there. "

"Well, I don't see much in that. "

"No, but look here, I got another chance of looking into her room thismorning, and that trunk was gone!"

"Gone back to the box-room, " said Wilfred with superiority. 

"No, it wasn't--I went up and looked. And her other trunk's not there, either. "

"Oh, you're dreaming! I bet she'd just pushed it under her bed. "

"Pooh!" said Avice. "That great big trunk wouldn't go under her bed--youknow she's only got a little stretcher-bed. And I tell you they'd bothgone. I bet you anything she's going to run away. "

"Where'd she run to?"

"Oh, somewhere with Bob. "

"Well, let her go. "

"Yes, and Mater 'd have to spend ever so much on a new governess; andmost likely she'd be a worse beast than Cecilia. And no governess weever had did half the things Mater makes Cecilia do to help in thehouse. Why she's like an extra servant, as well as a governess. Matertold me all about it. I tell you what, Wilfred, it's our business to seeshe doesn't run away. "

"All right, " said Wilfred, "I suppose we'd better watch out. When do youreckon she'd go? People generally run away at night, don't they?"

"Well, anyone can see she's just taking advantage of Mater being away. Yes, of course she'd go at night. She might have sent her boxes awayyesterday by a carrier--I bet that horrid little Eliza would help her. Ten to one she means to sneak out to-night--she knows Mater will be hometo-morrow. "

"What a sell it will be for her if we catch her!" said Wilfred withglee. "I say, what about telling Pater?"

Avice looked sour. 

"I did tell him something yesterday, and he only growled at me. Atleast, I said, 'Do you think Cecilia would ever be likely to run away?'And he just stared at me, and then he said, 'Not your business if shedoes. ' So I'm not going to speak to him again. "

"Well, we'd better take it in turns to watch her, " Wilfred said. "Afterdark's the most likely time, I suppose, but we'd better be on thelook-out all the time. Where's she now, by the way?"

"Why, I don't know. I say, she's been away a long time--I nevernoticed, " said Avice, in sudden alarm. "She said we were to go on withour French exercises--and that's ages ago. "

"Come on and see, " said Wilfred jumping up. 

Outside the room he caught Avice by the arm. 

"Kick off your shoes, " he said. "We'll sneak up to her room. "

They crept up silently. The door of Cecilia's room was ajar. Peeping in, they saw her standing before her tiny looking-glass, pinning on herhat. A small parcel lay upon her bed, with her gloves and parasol. Thechildren were very silent--but something struck upon the girl's tightlystrung nerves. She turned swiftly and saw them. 

"What are you doing?" she demanded. "How dare you come into my room?"

"Why, we thought you were lost, " said Avice. "We finished our Frenchages ago. Where are you going?"

"I am going out, " said Cecilia. "I'll set you more work to do while I'maway. "

"But where are you going?"

"That has nothing to do with you. Come down to the schoolroom. "

Avice held her brother firmly by the arm. Together they blocked the way. 

"Mater wouldn't let you go out in lesson time. I believe you're going torun away!"

A red spot flamed in each of Cecilia's white cheeks. 

"Stand out of my way, you little horrors!" she said angrily. She caughtup her things and advanced upon them. 

"I'm hanged if you're going, " said Wilfred doggedly. He pushed her backviolently, and slammed the door. 

The attic doors in Lancaster Gate, like those of many London houses, were fitted with heavy iron bolts on the outside--a precaution againstburglars who might enter the house by rooms ordinarily little used. Itwas not the first time that Cecilia had been bolted into her room by herstep-brother. When first she came, it had been a favourite pastime tomake her a prisoner--until their mother had made it an offence carryinga heavy penalty, since it had often occurred that Cecilia was locked upwhen she happened to need her. 

But this time Cecilia heard the heavy bolt shoot home with feelings ofdespair. It was already time for her to leave the house. Bob wouldbe waiting for her in Bond Street, impatiently scanning each crowd ofpassengers that the lift shot up from underground. She battered at thedoor wildly. 

"Let me out! How dare you, Wilfred? Let me out at once!"

Wilfred laughed disagreeably. 

"Not if we know it--eh, Avice?"

"Rather not, " said Avice. "What d'you think Mater'd say to us if we letyou run away?"

"Nonsense!" said Cecilia, controlling her voice with difficulty. "I wasgoing to meet Bob. "

There was silence, and a whispered consultation. Then Avice spoke. 

"Will you give us your word of honour you weren't going to run away?"

Words of honour meant little to the young Rainhams. But they knew thatCecilia held it as a commonplace of decent behaviour that people did nottell lies. They had, indeed, often marvelled that she preferred to "takeher gruel" rather than use any ready untruth that would have shieldedher from their mother's wrath. Avice and Wilfred had no such scruples ontheir own account: but they knew that they could depend upon Cecilia'sword. They were, indeed, just a little afraid of their own action inlocking her up; their mother might have condoned it as "high spirits, "but their father was not unlikely to take a different view. So theyawaited her reply with some anxiety. 

Cecilia hesitated. Never in her life had she been so tempted. Perhapsbecause the temptation was so strong she answered swiftly. 

"No--I won't tell you anything of the kind. But look here--if you willlet me out I'll give you each ten shillings. "

Ten shillings! It was wealth, and the children gasped. Wilfred, indeed, would have shot back the bolt instantly. It was Avice who caught at hisarm. 

"Don't you!" she whispered. "It'll cost heaps more than that to geta new governess--and we'll make Mater give us each ten shillings forkeeping her. I say, we'll have to get the Pater home. "

"How?" Wilfred looked at her blankly. 

"Easy. You go to the post office and telephone to him at his office. Tell him to come at once. I'll watch here, in case Eliza lets her out. Run--hard as you can. Mater'll never forgive us if she gets away. "

Wilfred clattered off obediently, awed by his sister's urgency. Avicesat down on the head of the stairs, close to the bolted door; and whenCecilia spoke again, repeating her offer, she answered her in a voiceunpleasantly like her mother's:

"No, you don't, my fine lady. Wilfred's gone for the Pater--he'll behere presently. You just stay there quietly till he comes. "

"Avice!" The word was a wail. "Oh, you don't know how important itis--let me out. I'll give you anything in the world. "

"So'll Mater if I stop your little game, " said Avice. "You just keepquiet. "

Eliza's sharp little face appeared at the foot of the flight of stairs. 

"Wot's up, Miss Avice? Anyfink wrong with Miss 'Cilia?"

"Nothing to do with you, " said Avice rudely. "I'm looking after her. "But Cecilia's sharp ears had caught the new voice. 

"Eliza! Eliza!" she called. 

The girl came up the stairs uncertainly. Avice rose to confront her. 

"Now, you just keep off, " she said. "You're not coming past here. Themaster'll be home directly, and till he comes, no one's going upthese stairs. " She raised her voice, to drown that of Cecilia, who wasspeaking again. 

Eliza looked at her doubtfully. She was an undersized, wizened littleCockney, and Avice was a big, stoutly-built girl--who held, moreover, the advantage of a commanding position on the top step. In an encounterof strength there was little doubt as to who would win. She turnedin silence, cowed, and went down to the kitchen, while Avice sang atriumphant song, partly as a chant of victory, and partly to make surethat no one would hear the remarks that Cecilia was steadily making. Sheherself had caught one phrase--"Tell my brother"--and her sharp littlemind was busy. Did that mean that Bob would be coming, against itsmistress's orders, to Lancaster Gate. 

In the kitchen Eliza poured out a frantic appeal to Cook. 

"She's got Miss 'Cilia locked up--the little red-'eaded cat! An' MasterWilfred gorn to fetch the Master! Oh, come on, Cookie darlin', an' we'lllet 'er out. "

Cook shook her head slowly. 

"Not good enough, " she said. "I got a pretty good place. I ain't goin'to risk it by 'avin' a rough-an'-tumble with the daughter of the 'ouseon the hattic stairs. You better leave well alone, Liza. You done yourbit, 'elpin' 'er git them trunks orf yes'day. "

"Wot's the good of 'avin the trunks off if she can't go, too?" demandedEliza. 

"Oh, she'll git another chance. Don't worry your 'ead so much over otherpeople's business. If the Master comes 'ome an' finds us scruffin' 'isdaughter, 'e'll 'and us both over to the police for assault--an' thenyou'll 'ave cause for worry. Now you git along like a good gel--I got tomike pastry. " Cook turned away decisively. 

Wilfred had come home and had raced up the stairs. 

"Did you get him?" Avice cried. 

"No--he was out. So I left a message that he was to come home at once, 'cause something was wrong. "

"That'll bring him, " said Avice with satisfaction. "Now, look here, Wilf--I believe Bob may come. You go and be near the front door, toblock Eliza, if he does. Answer any ring. "

"What'll I say if he comes?"

"Say she's gone out to meet him--if he thinks that, he'll hurry back towherever they were to meet. Don't give him a chance to get in. Hurry!"

"Right, " said Wilfred, obeying. He sat down in a hall chair, and tookup a paper, with an eye wary for Eliza. Half an hour passed tediously, while upstairs Cecilia begged and bribed in vain. Then he sprang to hisfeet as a ring came. 

Bob was at the door; and suddenly Wilfred realized that he had alwaysbeen afraid of Bob. He quailed inwardly, for never had he seen hishalf-brother look as he did now--with a kind of still, terrible anger inhis eyes. 

"Where's Cecilia?"

"Gone out, " said the boy. 

"Where?"

"Gone to meet you. "

"Did she tell you so?"

"Yes, of course--how'd I know if she didn't?"

"Then that's a lie, for she wouldn't tell you. Let me in. "

"I tell you, she's gone out, " said Wilfred, whose only spark ofremaining courage was due to the fact that he had prudently kept thedoor on the chain. "And Mater said you weren't to come in here. "

From the area below a shrill voice floated upwards. 

"Mr. Bob! Mr. Bob! Daon't you believe 'im. They got Miss 'Cilia lockedup in 'er room. "

"By Jove!" said Bob between his teeth. "Bless you, Eliza! Open thatdoor, Wilfred, or I'll make it hot for you. " He thrust a foot into theopening, with a face so threatening that Wilfred shrank back. 

"I shan't, " he said. "You're not going to get her. "

"Am I not?" said Bob. He leaned back, and then suddenly flung all hisweight against the door. The chain was old and the links eaten withrust--it snapped like a carrot, and the door flew open. Bob brushedWilfred out of his way, and went upstairs, three at a time. 

Avice blocked his path. 

"You aren't coming up. "

"Oh, yes, I think so, " Bob said. He stooped, with a quick movement, and picked her up, holding her across his shoulder, while she beat andclawed unavailingly at his back. So holding her, he thrust back the boltof Cecilia's door and flung it open. 

"Did you think they had got you, Tommy?"

She could only cling to his free arm for a moment speechless. Then shelifted her face, her voice shaking, still in fear. 

"We must hurry, Bob. They've sent for Papa. "

"Have they?" said Bob, with interest. "Well, not a regiment of papasshould stop you now, old girl. Got everything?"

Cecilia gathered up her things, nodding. 

"Then we'll leave this young lady here, " said Bob. He placed Avicecarefully on Cecilia's bed, and made for the door, having the pleasure, as he shot the bolt, of hearing precisely what the younger MissRainham thought of him and all his attributes, including his personalappearance. 

"A nice gift of language, hasn't she?" he said. "Inherits it fromher mamma, I should think. " He put his arm round Cecilia and held herclosely as they went downstairs, his face full of the joy of battle. Wilfred was nowhere to be seen, but by the door Eliza waited. Bobslipped something into her hand. 

"I expect you'll lose your place over this, Eliza, " he said. "Well, you'll get a better--I'll tell my lawyer to see to that. He'll write toyou--by the way, what's your surname? Oh, Smithers--I'll remember. Andthank you very much. "

They shook hands with her, and passed out into the street. Cecilia wasstill too shaken to speak--but as Bob pulled her hand through his armand hurried her along, her self-control returned, and the face thatlooked up at his presently was absolutely content. Bob returned the lookwith a little smile. 

"Didn't you know I'd come?" he asked. "You dear old stupid. "

"I knew you'd come--but I thought Papa would get there first, " Ceciliaanswered. "Somehow, it seemed the end of everything. "

"It isn't--it's only the beginning, " Bob answered. 

There was a narrow side street that made a short cut from the tubestation to the Rainhams' home; and as they passed it Mark Rainham camehurrying up it. Bob and Cecilia did not see him. He looked at them fora moment, as if reading the meaning of the two happy faces--and thenshrank back into an alley and remained hidden until his son and daughterhad passed out of sight. They went on their way, without dreaming thatthe man they dreaded was within a stone's throw of them. 

"So it was that, " said Mark Rainham slowly, looking after them. "Out ofgaol, are you--poor little prisoner! Well, good luck to you both!" Heturned on his heel, and went back to his office. 

CHAPTER VIII

HOW TOMMY BOARDED A STRANGE TAXI

"We're nearly in, Tommy. "

Cecilia looked up from her corner with a start, and the book she hadbeen trying to read slipped to the floor of the carriage. 

"I believe you were asleep, " said Bob, laughing. "Poor old Tommy, areyou very tired?"

"Oh, nothing, really. Only I was getting a bit sleepy, " his sisteranswered. "Are we late, Bob?"

"Very, the conductor says. This train generally makes a point of beinglate. I wish it had made a struggle to be on time to-night; it wouldhave been jolly to get to the ship in daylight. " Bob was strapping uprugs briskly as he talked. 

"How do we get down to the ship, Bob?"

"Oh, no doubt there'll be taxis, " Bob answered. "But it may be no end ofa drive--the conductor tells me there are miles and miles of docks, andthe Nauru may be lying anywhere. But he says there's always a militaryofficial on duty at the station--a transport officer, and he'll be ableto tell me everything. " He did not think it worth while to tell thetired little sister what another man had told him, that it was verydoubtful whether they would be allowed to board any transport at night, and that Liverpool was so crowded that to find beds in it might be animpossibility. Bob refused to be depressed by the prospect. "If theworst came to the worst, there'd be a Y. W. C. A. That would take inTommy, " he mused. "And it wouldn't be the first time I've spent a nightin the open. " Nothing seemed to matter now that they had escaped. But, all the same, there seemed no point in telling Tommy, who was extremelycheerful, but also very white-faced. 

They drew into an enormous station, where there seemed a dense crowdof people, but no porters at all. Bob piled their hand luggage onthe platform, and left Cecilia to guard it while he went on a tour ofdiscovery. He hurried back to her presently. 

"Come on, " he said, gathering up their possessions. "There's a bigstation hotel opening on to the platforms. I can leave you sitting inthe vestibule while I gather up the heavy luggage and find the transportofficer. I'm afraid it's going to take some time, so don't get worriedif I don't turn up very soon. There seem to be about fifty thousandpeople struggling round the luggage vans, and I'll have to wait my turn. But I'll be as quick as I can. "

"Don't you worry on my account, " Cecilia said. "This is ever socomfortable. I don't mind how long you're away!" She laughed up at him, sinking into a big chair in the vestibule of the hotel. There were heavyglass doors on either side that were constantly swinging to let peoplein or out; through them could be seen the hurrying throng of peopleon the station, rushing to and fro under the great electric lights, gathered round the bookstall, struggling along under luggage, or--veryoccasionally--moving in the wake of a porter with a barrow heaped withtrunks. There were soldiers everywhere, British and Australian, andofficers in every variety of Allied uniform. 

An officer came in with a lady and two tiny boys--Cecilia recognizedthem as having been passengers on their train. With them came an oldIrish priest, who had met them, and the officer left them in hiscare while he also went off on the luggage quest. The small boys wereapparently untired by their journey; they immediately began to use theswinging glass doors as playthings to the imminent risk of their ownnecks, since they were too little to be noticed by anyone coming inor out, and were nearly knocked flat a dozen times by the swing of thedoors. The weary mother spent a busy time in rescuing them, and was notalways entirely successful--bumps and howls testified to the doors beingoccasionally quicker than the boys. Finally, the old priest gatheredup the elder, a curly-haired, slender mite, into his arms and told himstories, while his plump and solemn brother curled up on his mother'sknee and dozed. It was clearly long after their bed-time. 

The procession of people came and went unceasingly, the glass doorsalways aswing. In and out, in and out, men and women hurried, and justbeyond the kaleidoscope of the platforms moved and changed restlesslyunder the glaring arc lights. Cecilia's bewildered mind grew weary of itall, and she closed her eyes. It was some time later that she woke witha start, to find Bob beside her. 

"Sleepy old thing, " he said. "Oh, I've had such a wild time, Tommy; toget information of any kind is as hard as to get one's luggage. However, I've got both. And the first thing is we can't go on board to-night. "

"Bob! What shall we do?"

"I was rather anxious about that same thing myself, " said Bob, "sinceeveryone tells me that Liverpool is more jammed with people than evenLondon--which is saying something. However, we've had luck. I went toask in here, never imagining I had the ghost of a chance, and they'djust had telegrams giving up two rooms. So we're quite all right; and sois the luggage. I've had all the heavy stuff handed over to a carrier tobe put on the Nauru to-morrow morning. "

"You're the great manager, " said Cecilia comfortably. "Where is theNauru, by the way?"

"Sitting out in the river, the transport officer says. She doesn't comealongside until the morning; and we haven't to be on board until threeo'clock. She's supposed to pull out about six. So we really needn't haveleft London to-day--but I think it's as well we did. "

"Yes, indeed, " said Cecilia, with a shiver. "I don't think I could havestood another night in Lancaster Gate. I've been awake for three nightswondering what we should do if any hitch came in our plans. "

"Just like a woman!" said Bob, laughing. "You always jump over yourhedges before you come to them. " He pulled her gently out of her chair. "Come along; I'll have these things sent up to our rooms, and then we'llget some dinner--after which you'll go to bed. " It was a plan whichsounded supremely attractive to his sister. 

Not even the roar and rattle of the trains under the station hotel keptCecilia awake that night. She slept, dreamlessly at first; then she hada dream that she was just about to embark in a great ship for Australia;that she was going up the gangway, when suddenly behind her came herfather and her stepmother, with Avice, Wilfred and Queenie, who allseized her, and began to drag her back. She fought and struggled withthem, and from the top of the gangway came Mr. M'Clinton and Eliza, whotugged her upwards. Between the two parties she was beginning to thinkshe would be torn to pieces, when suddenly came swooping from the cloudsan areoplane, curiously like a wheelbarrow, and in it Bob, who leanedout as he dived, grasped her by the hair, and swung her aboard with him. They whirred away over the sea; where, she did not know, but it did notseem greatly to matter. They were still flying between sea and sky whenshe woke, to find the sunlight streaming into her room, and some oneknocking at her door. 

"Are you awake, Tommy?" It was Bob's voice. "Lie still, and I'll sendyou up a cup of tea. "

That was very pleasant, and a happy contrast to awakening in LancasterGate; and breakfast a little later was delightful, in a big sunny room, with interesting people coming and going all the time. Bob and Ceciliasmiled at each other like two happy children. It was almost unbelievablethat they were free; away from tryanny and coldness, with no moreplotting and planning, and no more prying eyes. 

Bob went off to interview the transport officer after breakfast, andCecilia found the officer's wife with the two little boys struggling toattend to her luggage, while the children ran away and lost themselvesin the corridors or endeavoured to commit suicide by means of the lift. So Cecilia took command of them and played with them until the harassedmother had finished, and came to reclaim her offspring--this time withthe worry lines smoothed out of her face. She sat down by Cecilia andtalked, and presently it appeared that she also was sailing in theNauru. 

"Indeed, I thought it was only wives who were going, " she said. "Ididn't know sisters were permitted. "

"I believe General Harran managed our passages, " Cecilia said. "He hasbeen very kind to my brother. "

"Well, you should have a merry voyage, for there will be scarcely anyyoung girls on board, " said Mrs. Burton, her new friend. "Most of thewomen on the transports are brides, of course. Ever so many of our menhave married over here. "

"You are an Australian?" Cecilia asked. 

"Oh, yes. My husband isn't. He was an old regular officer, and returnedto his regiment as soon as war broke out. I don't think there will bemany women on board: the Nauru isn't a family ship, you know. "

"What is that?" Cecilia queried. 

"Oh, a ship with hundreds of women and children--privates' wives andfamilies, as well as officers'. I believe they are rather awful totravel on--they must be terrible in rough weather. The non-family shipscarry only a few officers' wives, as a rule: a much more comfortablearrangement for the lucky few. "

"And we are among the lucky few?"

"Yes. I only hope my small boys won't be a nuisance. I've never beenwithout a nurse for them until last night. However, I suppose I'll soonget into their ways. "

"You must let me help you, " Cecilia said. "I love babies. " She strokedTim's curly head as she spoke: Dickie, his little brother, had suddenlyfallen asleep on his mother's knee. 

Mrs. Burton smiled her thanks. 

"Well, it is pleasant to think we shan't go on board knowing no one, "she said. "I hope our cabins are not far apart. Oh, here is my husband;I hope that means all our luggage is safely on board. "

Colonel Burton came up--a pleasant soldierly man, bearing theunmistakable stamp of the regular officer. They were still chattingwhen Bob arrived, to be introduced--a ceremony which appeared hardlynecessary in the case of the colonel and himself. 

"We've met at intervals since last night in various places where theyhide luggage, " said the colonel. "I'm beginning to turn faint at thesight of a trunk!"

"It's the trunks I can't get sight of that make me tremble, " grinnedBob. "One of mine disappeared mysteriously this morning, and finally, after a breathless hunt, turned up in a lamp-room--your biggestSaratoga, Tommy! Why anyone should have put it in a lamp-room seems tobe a conundrum that is going to excite the station for ever. But thereit was. "

"And have they really started for the ship?" asked Cecilia. 

"Well--I saw them all on a lorry, checked over my list with thedriver's, and found everything right, and saw him start, " said Bob, laughing. "More than that no man may say. "

"It would simplify matters if we knew our cabin numbers, " said ColonelBurton. "But we don't; neither does anyone, as far as I can gather, since cabins appear to be allotted just as you go on board--a peculiarsystem. Can you imagine the ghastly heap of miscellaneous luggage thatwill be dumped on the Nauru, with frenzied owners wildly trying to sortit out!"

"It doesn't bear thinking of, " said Bob, laughing. "Come along, Tommy, and we'll explore Liverpool. "

They wandered about the crowded streets of the great port, where may, perhaps, be seen a queerer mixture of races than anywhere in England, since ships from all over the world ceaselesly come and go up and downthe Mersey. Then they boarded a tram and journeyed out of the city, among miles of beautiful houses, and, getting down at the terminus, walked briskly for an hour, since it would be long before there wouldbe any land for them to walk on again. They got back to the hotel ratherlate for lunch, and very hungry; and afterwards it was time to pack uptheir light luggage and get down to the docks. General Harran had warnedthem to take enough hand-baggage to last them several nights, sinceit was quite possible that their cabin trunks would be swept into thebaggage room, and fail to turn up for a week after sailing. 

A taxi whisked them through streets that became more and more crowded. The journey was not a long one; they turned down a slope presently, anddrew up before a great gate across the end of a pier where two policemenwere on duty to prevent the entrance of anyone without a pass. Porterswere there in singular numbers--England had grown quite used to beingwithout them; and Bob had just transferred their luggage to the care ofa cheerful lad with a barrow when Cecilia gave a little start of dismay. 

"Bob, I've left my watch!"

"Whew!" whistled her brother. "Where?"

"I washed my hands just before I left my room, " said the shamefacedCecilia. "I remember slipping it off my wrist beside the basin. "

"Well, there's no need to worry, " said Bob cheerfully. "Ten to one it'sthere still. You'll have to take the taxi and go back for it, Tommy:I can't leave the luggage, and I may be wanted to show our papers, besides; but you won't have any difficulty. Come along, and I'll seethat the policeman lets you through when you come back. "

The constable was sympathetic. He examined Cecilia's passport, declaredthat he would know her anywhere again, and that she had no cause foranxiety. 

"Is it time? Sure, ye'll be tired of waitin' on the ould pier hoursafther ye get back, " he said cheerfully. "I know thim transports. Why, there's not one of the throops marched in yet. There comes the furrstlot. "

A band swung round the turn of the street playing a quickstep: behindit, a long line of Australian soldiers, marching at ease, each man withhis pack on his shoulder. A gate with a military sentry swung wide toadmit them, and they passed on to where a high overhead bridge carriedthem aboard a great liner moored to the pier. 

"'Tis the soldiers have betther treatment than the officers whin itcomes to boardin' transports, " said the friendly policeman. "They getmarched straight on board. The officers and their belongin's has to waittill they've gone through hivin knows what formalities. So you needn'tworry, miss, an' take your time. The ould ship'll be there hours yet. "

The taxi driver appeared only too glad of further employment, andCecilia, much cheered, though still considerably ashamed of herself, leaned back comfortably in the cab as they whisked through the streets. At the hotel good fortune awaited her, for a chambermaid had just foundher watch and had brought it to the office for safe keeping. Cecilialeft her thanks, with something more substantial, for the girl, andhurried back to the cab. 

The streets seemed more thronged than ever, and presently traffic wasblocked by a line of marching men--more "diggers" on their way to thetransport. Cecilia's chauffeur turned back into a side street, evidentlya short cut. Half-way along it the taxi jarred once or twice and came toa standstill. 

The chauffeur got out and poked his head into the bonnet, performingmysterious rites, while Cecilia watched him, a little anxiously. Presently he came round to the door. 

"I'm awful sorry, miss, " he said respectfully. "The old bus has brokedown. I'm afraid I can't get another move out of 'er--I'll 'ave to get'er towed to a garage. "

"Oh!" said Cecilia, jumping out. "Do you think I can find another nearhere?"

"You oughter pick one up easy in the street up there, " said thechauffeur. "Plenty of 'em about 'ere. Even if you shouldn't, miss, youcan get a tram down to the docks--any p'liceman 'll direct you. Youcould walk it, if you liked--you've loads of time. " He touched his capas she paid him. "Very sorry to let you down like this, miss--itain't my fault. All the taxis in England are just about droppin' topieces--it'll be a mercy when repair shops get goin' again. "

"It doesn't matter, " Cecilia said cheerfully. She decided that she wouldwalk; it would be more interesting, and the long wait on the pier wouldbe shortened. She set off happily towards the main street where the tramlines ran, feeling that short cuts were not for strangers in a big city. 

Even in the side street the shops were interesting. She came upon afascinating curio shop, and stopped a moment to look at the queer medleyin its window; such a medley as may be seen in any port where sailor-menbring home strange things from far countries. She was so engrossedthat she failed to notice a woman who passed her, and then, with anastonished stare, turned back. A heavy hand fell on her wrist. 

"Cecilia!"

She turned, with a little cry. Mrs. Rainham's face, inflamed with suddenanger, looked into her own. The hard grasp tightened on her wrist. 

"What are you doing here, you wicked girl? You've run away. "

At the moment no speech was possible to Cecilia. She twisted her armaway fiercely, freeing herself with difficulty, and turning, ran, withher stepmother at her heels. Once, Mrs. Rainham gasped "Police!" afterwhich she required all the breath to keep near the flying girl. Thestreet was quiet; only one or two interested passers-by turned tolook at the race, and a street urchin shouted: "Go it, red 'ead--she'sbeatin' yer!"

It follows naturally, when one person pursues another through citystreets, that the pursued falls under public suspicion and is liable tobe caught and held by any officious person. Cecilia felt this, and heranxiety was keen as she darted round the corner into the next street, looking about wildly for a means of escape. A big van, crawling acrossthe road, held Mrs. Rainham back for a moment, giving her a briefrespite. 

Just in front of her, a block in the traffic was beginning to move. Ataxi was near her. She held up her hand desperately, trying to catch thedriver's eye. He shook his head, and she realized that he was alreadyengaged--there was a pile of luggage beside him with big labels, anda familiar name struck her--"H. M. T. Nauru. " A girl, leaning from thewindow of the taxi, met her glance, and Cecilia took a sudden resolve. She sprang forward, her hand on the door. 

"I am a passenger by the Nauru. Could you take me in your car?" shegasped. 

"Why, of course, " said the other girl. "Plenty of room, isn't there, dad?"

"Yes, certainly, " said the other occupant of the cab--a big, grizzledman, who looked at the new-comer in blank amazement. He had half risen, but there was no time for him to assist his self-invited guest; she hadopened the door and jumped in before his daughter had finished speaking. Leaning forward, Cecilia saw her stepmother emerge from the traffic, crimson-faced, casting wild and wrathful glances about her. Then herwandering eye fell upon Cecilia, and she began to run forward. Even asshe did the chauffeur quickened his pace, and the taxi slid away, untilthe running, shouting figure was lost to view. 

Cecilia sat back with a gasp, and began to laugh helplessly. The otherswatched her with faces that clearly showed that they began to suspecthaving entertained a lunatic unawares. 

"I do beg your pardon, " said Cecilia, recovering. "It was inexcusable. But I was running away. "

"So it seemed, " said the big man, in a slow, pleasant voice. "I hope itwasn't from the police?"

"Oh no!" Cecilia flushed. "Only from my stepmother. My own taxi had justbroken down, and she found me, and she would have made a scene in thestreet--and scenes are so vulgar, are they not? When I saw Nauru on yourluggage, you seemed to me to have dropped from heaven. "

She looked at them, her pretty face pink, her eyes dancing withexcitement. There was something appealing about her, in the big childisheyes, and in the well-bred voice with its faint hint of a French accent. The girl she looked at could hardly have been called pretty--she wasslender and long-limbed, with honest grey eyes and a sensitive mouththat seemed always ready to break into smiles. A little smile hovered atits corners now, but her voice held a note of protection. 

"I don't think we need bother you to tell us, " she said. "In our countryit's a very ordinary thing to give anyone a lift, if you have a seat tospare. Isn't it, daddy?"

"Of course, " said her father. "And we are to be fellow-passengers, so itwas very lucky that we were there in the nick of time. "

Cecilia looked at them gratefully. It might have been so different, shethought; she might have flung herself on the mercy of people who wouldhave been suspicious and frigid, or of others who would have treated herwith familiarity and curious questioning. These people were pleasantlymatter-of-fact; glad to help, but plainly anxious to show her that theyconsidered her affairs none of their business. There was a little catchin her throat as she answered. 

"It is very good of you to take me on trust--I know I did anunwarrantable thing. But my brother, Captain Rainham, will explaineverything, and he will be as grateful to you as I am. He is at the shipnow. "

"Then we can hand you over to his care, " said her host. "By the way, is there any need to guard against the--er--lady you spoke of? Is shelikely to follow you to the docks?"

"She doesn't know I'm going, " said Cecilia, dimpling. "Of course, ifit were in a novel she would leap into a swift motor and bid the driverfollow us, and be even now on our heels--"

"Goodness!" said the other girl. She twisted so that she could look outof the tiny window at the back; turning back with a relieved face. 

"Nothing near us but a carrier's van and a pony cart, " she said. "Ishouldn't think you need worry. "

"No. I really don't think I need. My stepmother did see me in thetaxi, but her brain doesn't move very swiftly, nor does she, for thatmatter--and I'm sure she wouldn't try to follow me. She knows, too, thatif she found me she couldn't drag me away as if I were two years old. Oh, I'm sure I'm safe from her now, " finished Cecilia, with a sigh ofrelief. 

"At any rate, if she comes to the docks she will have your brother todeal with, " said the big man. "And here we are. "

They got out at the big gate where the Irish policeman greeted Ceciliawith a friendly "Did ye find it now, miss?" and beamed upon her when sheheld up her wrist, with her watch safely in its place. He examined hercompanions' passports, but let her through with an airy "Sure, thisyoung lady's all right, " which made Cecilia feel that no further proofcould be needed of her respectability. Then Bob came hurrying to meether. 

"I was just beginning to get uneasy about you, " he said. "Did you haveany trouble?"

"My taxi broke down, " Cecilia answered. "But this lady and gentlemanmost kindly gave me a seat, and saved me ever so much trouble. I'll tellyou my story presently. "

Bob turned, saluting. 

"Thanks, awfully, " he said. "I wasn't too happy at letting my littlesister run about alone in a strange city, but it couldn't be helped. "

"I'm very glad we were there, " said the big man. "Now, can you tell mewhere luggage should go? My son and a friend are somewhere on the pier, I suppose, but it doesn't seem as though finding them would be an easymatter. "

The pier, indeed, resembled a hive in which the bees have broken loose. Beside it lay the huge bulk of the transport, towering high above allthe dock buildings near. Already she swarmed with Australian soldiers, and a steady stream was still passing aboard by the overhead gangway tothe blare and crash of a regimental march. The pier itself was crowdedwith officers, with a sprinkling of women and children--most of themlooking impatient enough at being kept ashore instead of being allowedto seek their quarters on the ship. Great heaps of trunks were stackedhere and there, and a crane was steadily at work swinging them aboard. 

"We can't go aboard yet, nobody seems to know why, " Bob said. "Anindividual called an embarkation officer, or something of the kind, hasto check our passports; he was supposed to be here before threeo'clock, but there's no sign of him yet, and every one has to wait hisconvenience. It's hard on the women with little children--the poor mitesare getting tired and cross. Luggage can be left in the care of theship's hands, to be loaded; I'll show you where, sir, if you like. Isthis yours?" His eye fell on a truck-load of trunks, wheeled up by aporter, and lit up suddenly as he noticed the name on their labels. 

"Oh--are you Mr. Linton?" he exclaimed. "I believe I've got a letter foryou, from General Harran. "

"Now, I was wondering where I'd heard your name before, when your sisterhappened to say you were Captain Rainham, " said the big man. "How stupidof me--of course, I met Harran at my club this week, and he told meabout you. " He held out his hand, and took Bob's warmly; then he turnedto his daughter. "Norah, it's lucky that we have made friends with MissRainham already, because you know she's in our care, after a fashion. "

Norah Linton turned with a quick smile. 

"I'm so glad, " she said. "I've been wondering what you would be like, because we didn't know of anyone else on board. "

"General Harran told my brother that you would befriend us, but I didnot think you would begin so early, " Cecilia said. "Just fancy, Bob, they rescued me almost from the clutches of the she-dragon!"

Bob jumped. 

"You don't mean to say you met her?"

"I did--as soon as my cab broke down. And I lost my head and ran fromher like a hare, and jumped into Mr. Linton's car!"

Bob regarded her with solemn amazement. 

"So this is what happens when I let you go about alone!" he ejaculated. "Why, you might have got yourself into an awful mess--it might have beenanybody's car--"

"Yes, but it wasn't, " said his sister serenely. "You see, I looked atMiss Linton first, and I knew it would be all right. "

The Lintons laughed unrestrainedly. 

"That's your look of benevolent old age, Norah, " said her father. "I'veoften noticed it coming on. "

"I wish you'd mention it to Wally, " Norah said. "He might treat me withmore respect if you did. "

"I doubt it; it isn't in Wally, " said her father. "Now, Rainham, shallwe see about this luggage?"

They handed it over to the care of deck hands, and watched it loaded, with many other trunks, into a huge net, which the crane seized, swungto an enormous height and then lowered gently upon the deck of theNauru. Just as the operation was finished two figures threaded their waythrough the crowd towards them; immensely tall young officers, with thebadge of a British regiment on their caps. 

"Hullo, dad, " said the taller--a good-looking grave-faced fellow, with astrong resemblance to Norah. "We hardly expected you down so early. "

"Well, Norah and I had nothing to do, so we thought we might as wellcome; though it appears that we would have been wiser not to hurry, "said Mr. Linton. "Jim, I want to introduce you to two courageousemigrants--Miss Rainham, Captain Rainham--my son. "

Jim Linton shook hands, and introduced his companion, Captain Meadows, who was dark and well built, with an exceedingly merry eye. 

"We've been trying to get round the powers that be, to make our way onboard, " he said. "The chief difficulty is that the powers that bearen't there; everything is hung up waiting for this blessed official. Isuppose the honest man is sleeping off the effects of a heavy lunch. "

"If he knew what hearty remarks are being made about him by over twohundred angry people, it might disturb his rest, " said Wally Meadows. "Come along and see them--you're only on the fringe of the crowd here. "

"Wally's been acting as nursemaid for the last half hour, " Jim said, asthey made their way along the pier. "He rescued a curly-haired kid froma watery grave--at least, it would have been in if he hadn't caught itby the hind leg--and after that the kid refused to let him go. "

"He was quite a jolly kid, " said Wally. "Only he seems to havequicksilver in him, instead of blood. I'm sorry for his mother--she'llhave a packed time for the next five weeks. " He sighed. "Hide me, Norah--there he is now!"

The curly-haired one proved to be little Tim Burton, who detachedhimself from his mother on catching sight of Wally, and trotted acrossto him with a shrill cry of "There's mine officer!"--whereat Wally swunghim up on his shoulder, to his infinite delight. Mrs. Burton hurried upto claim her offspring, and was made known to every one by Cecilia. 

"It's such an awful wait, " she said wearily. "We came here soon aftertwo o'clock, thinking we would get the children on board early for theirafternoon sleep; now it's after four, and we have stood here ever since. It's too tantalizing with the ship looking at us, and the poor babiesare so tired. Still, I'm not the worst off. Look at that poor girl. "

She pointed out a white-faced girl who was sitting in a droopingattitude on a very dirty wooden case. She was dainty and refined inappearance; and looking at her, one felt that the filthy case was themost welcome thing she had found that afternoon. Her husband, an officerscarcely more than a boy, stood beside, trying vainly to hush the criesof a tiny baby. She put up her arms wearily as they looked at her. 

"Oh, give her to me, Harry. " She took the little bundle and crooned overit; and the baby wailed on unceasingly. 

"Oh!" said Norah Linton. She took a quick stride forward. They watchedher accost the young mother--saw the polite, yet stiff, refusal on theEnglish girl's face; saw Norah, with a swift decided movement stoop downand take the baby from the reluctant arms, putting any protest asidewith a laugh. A laugh went round the Linton party also. 

"I knew she'd get it, " said Jim. 

"Rather!" his friend echoed. "But she hasn't arms enough for all thebabies who want mothering here. "

There were indeed plenty of them. Tired young mothers stood abouteverywhere, with children ranging from a few months to three or fouryears, all weary by this time, and most of them cross. Harassed younghusbands, unused to travelling with children--unused, indeed, toanything but War--went hither and thither trying to hasten the businessof getting on board--coming back, after each useless journey, to try andsoothe a screaming baby or restrain a tiny boy anxious to look over theedge of the pier. It was only a few minutes before Cecilia had found amother exhausted enough to yield up her baby without much protest; andJim and Wally Meadows and Bob "adopted" some of the older children, andtook them off to see the band; which diversions helped to pass the time. But it was after five o'clock before a stir went round the pier, and arush of officers towards a little wooden room at the foot of the gangwaytold that the long-waited-for official had arrived. 

"Well, we won't hurry, " said Mr. Linton. "Let the married men get onfirst. "

There were not many who did not hurry. A few of the older officers keptback; the majority, who were chiefly subalterns, made a dense crowdabout the little room, their long-pent impatience bursting out atlast. Passports examined, a procession began up the gangway; each mancompelled to halt at a barrier on top, where two officers sat allottingcabins. It was difficult to see why both these preliminaries could nothave been managed before, instead of being left until the momentof boarding; the final block strained every one's patience tobreaking-point. 

The Lintons and the Rainhams were almost the last to board the ship, having, not without thankfulness, relinquished their adopted babies. Theofficers allotting berths nodded comprehendingly on hearing the names ofthe two girls. 

"Oh yes--you're together. " He gave them their number. 

"Together--how curious!" said Cecilia. 

"Not a bit; you're the only unmarried ladies on board. And they'repacked like sardines--not a vacant berth on the ship. Over two thousandmen and two hundred officers, to say nothing of wives and children. " Heleaned back, thankful that his rush of work was over. "Well, when I makea long voyage I hope it won't be on a trooper!"

"Well, that's a bad remark to begin one's journey on, " said JimLinton, following the girls up the gangway. "Doesn't it scare you, MissRainham?"

"No, " she said, with a little laugh. "Nothing would scare me except notgoing. "

"Why, that's all right, " he said. His hand fell on his sister'sshoulder. "And what about you, Nor?"

The face she turned him was so happy that words were hardly needed. 

"Why--I'm going back to Billabong!" she said. 

CHAPTER IX

THE WELCOME OF AUSTRALIA

A path of moonlight lay across the sea. Into it drifted a great ship, her engines almost stopped, so that only a dull, slow throb came up frombelow, instead of the swift thud-thud of the screw that had pounded formany weeks. It was late; so late that most of the ship's lights wereextinguished. But all through her was a feeling of pulsating life, ofunrest, of a kind of tense excitement, of long-pent expectation. There were low voices everywhere; feet paced the decks; along the portrailings on each deck soldiers were clustered thickly, looking outacross the grey, tossing sea to a winking light that flashed andtwinkled out of the darkness like a voice that cried "Greeting!" For itwas the Point Lonsdale light, at the sea gate of Victoria; and the menof the Nauru were nearly home. 

There was little sleep for anyone on board on that last night. Most ofthe Nauru's great company were to disembark in Melbourne; the last twodays had seen a general smartening up, a mighty polishing of leather andbrass, a "rounding-up" of scattered possessions. The barber's shop hadbeen besieged by shaggy crowds; and since the barber, being but human, could not cope with more than a small proportion of his would-becustomers, amateur clipping parties had been in full swing forward, frequently with terrifying results. Nobody minded. "Git it orf, that'sall that matters!" was the motto of the long-haired. 

No one knew quite when the Nauru would berth; it was wrapped in mystery, like all movements of troopships. So every one was ready the nightbefore--kit bags packed, gear stowed away, nothing left save absolutenecessaries. Then, with the coming of dusk, unrest settled down uponthe ship, and the men marched restlessly, up and down, or, grippingpipe stems between their teeth, stared from the railings northwards. Andthen, like a star at first, the Point Lonsdale light twinkled out of thedarkness, and a low murmur ran round the decks--a murmur without words, since it came from men whose only fashion of meeting any emotion is witha joke; and even for a "digger" there is no joke ready on the lips, butonly a catch at the heart, at the first glimpse of home. 

Norah Linton had tucked herself away behind a boat on the hurricanedeck, and there Cecilia Rainham found her just after dusk. The twogirls had become sworn friends during the long voyage out, in the closecompanionship of sharing a cabin--which is a kind of acid test thatgenerally brings out the best--and worst--of travellers. There wassomething protective in Norah's nature that responded instantly to thelonely position of the girl who was going across the world to a strangecountry. Both were motherless, but in Norah's case the blank wassoftened by a father who had striven throughout his children's lives tobe father and mother alike to them, while Cecilia had only the bittermemory of the man who had shirked his duty until he had become less thana stranger to her. If any pang smote her heart at the sight of Norah'sworshipping love for the tall grey "dad" for whom she was the verycentre of existence, Cecilia did not show it. The Lintons had taken theminto their little circle at once--more, perhaps, by reason of Cecilia'sextraordinary introduction to them than through General Harran'sletter--and Bob and his sister were already grateful for theirfriendship. They were a quiet quartet, devoted to each other in theirundemonstrative fashion; Norah was on a kind of boyish footing with Jim, the huge silent brother who was a major, with three medal ribbons tohis credit, and with Wally Meadows, his inseparable chum, who had beenalmost brought up with the brother and sister. 

"They were always such bricks to me, even when I was a little scrap of athing, " she had told Cecilia. "They never said I was 'only a girl, ' andkept me out of things. So I grew up more than three parts a boy. It wasso much easier for dad to manage three boys, you see!"

"You don't look much like a boy, " Cecilia had said, looking at the tall, slender figure and the mass of curly brown hair. They were getting readyfor bed, and Norah was wielding a hair-brush vigorously. 

"No, but I really believe I feel like one--at least, I do whenever Iam with Jim and Wally, " Norah had answered. "And when we get backto Billabong it will be just as it always was--we'll be three boystogether. You know, it's the most ridiculous thing to think of Jim andWally as grown-ups. Dad and I can't get accustomed to it at all. And asfor Jim being a major!--a major sounds so dignified and respectable, andJim isn't a bit like that!"

"And what about Captain Meadows?"

"Oh--Wally will simply never grow up. " Norah laughed softly. "He's likePeter Pan. Once he nearly managed it--in that bad time when Jim was aprisoner, and we thought he was killed. But Jim got back just in time tosave him from anything so awful. One of the lovely parts of getting Jimagain was to see the twinkle come back into Wally's eyes. You see, Wallyis practically all twinkle!"

"And when you get back to Australia, what will you all do?"

Norah had looked puzzled. 

"Why, I don't know that we've ever thought of it, " she said. "We'll justall go to Billabong--we don't seem to think further than that. Anyway, you and Bob are coming too--so we can plan it all out then. "

Looking at her, on this last night of the voyage, Cecilia wonderedwhether the unknown "Billabong" would indeed be enough, after the longyears of war. They had been children when they left; now the boys wereseasoned soldiers, with scars and honours, and such memories as onlythey themselves could know; and Norah and her father had for yearsconducted what they termed a "Home for Tired People, " where broken andweary men from the front had come to be healed and tended, and sentback refitted in mind and body. This girl, who leaned over the rail andlooked at the Point Lonsdale light, had seen suffering and sorrow; themourning of those who had given up dear ones, the sick despair of youngand strong men crippled in the very dawn of life; and had helped themall. Beside her, in experience, Cecilia felt a child. And yet theold bush home, with its simple life and the pleasures that had beeneverything to her in childhood, seemed everything to her now. 

Cecilia went softly to her side, and Norah turned with a start. 

"Hallo, Tommy!" she said, slipping her arm through thenew-comer's--Cecilia had become "Tommy" to them all in a very shorttime, and her hated, if elegant, name left as a legacy to England. "Ididn't hear you come. Oh, Tommy, it's lovely to see home again!"

"You can't see much, " said Tommy, laughing. 

"No, but it's there. I can feel it; and that old winking eye on PointLonsdale is saying fifty nice things a minute. And I can smell the gumleaves--don't you tell me I can't, Tommy, just because your nose isn'ttuned up to gum leaves yet!"

"Does it take long to tune a nose?" asked Tommy, laughing. 

"Not a nice nose like yours. " Norah gave a happy little sigh. "Do yousee that glow in the sky? That's the lights of Melbourne. I went toschool near Melbourne, but I never loved it much; but somehow, it seemsdifferent now. It's all just shouting welcomes. And back of beyond thatlight is Billabong. "

"I want to see Billabong, " said the other girl. "I never had a home thatmeant anything like that--I want to see yours. "

"And I suppose you'll just think it's an ordinary, untidy old place--nota bit like the trim English places, where the woods look as though theywere swept and dusted before breakfast every morning. I suppose it isall ordinary. But it has meant just everything I wanted, all my life, and I can't imagine its meaning anything less now. "

"And what about Homewood--the Home for Tired People?"

"Oh, Homewood certainly is lovely, " Norah said. "I like it better thanany place in the world that isn't Billabong--and it was just wonderfulto be able to carry it on for the Tired People: dad and I will always bethankful we had the chance. But it never was home: and now it's going torun itself happily without us, as a place for partly-disabled men, withColonel Hunt and Captain Hardress to manage it. It was just a singlechapter in our lives, and now it is closed. But we're--all of us--partsof Billabong. "

Some one came quietly along the deck and to the vacant place on herother side. 

"Who's talking Billabong again, old kiddie?" Jim Linton's deep voice wasalways gentle. Norah gave his shoulder a funny little rub with her head. 

"Ah, you're just as bad as I am, so you needn't laugh at me, Jimmy. "

"I wasn't laughing at you, " Jim defended himself. "I expected to findyou ever so much worse. I thought you'd sing anthems on the very wordBillabong all through the voyage, especially in your bath. Of course Idon't know what Tommy has suffered!"

"Tommy doesn't need your sympathy, " said that lady. "However, she wantsto look her best for Melbourne, so she's going to bed. Don't hurry, Norah; I know you want to exchange greetings with that light for hoursyet!"

She slipped away, and Norah drew closer to Jim. Presently came Wally, onher other side, and a few moments later a deep voice behind them said, "Not in bed yet, Norah?"--and Wally made room for Mr. Linton. 

"I couldn't go to bed, dad. "

"Apparently most of the ship is of your mind--I didn't feel like bedmyself, " admitted the squatter, letting his hand rest for a momenton his daughter's shoulder. He gave a great sigh of happiness. "Eh, children, it's great to be near home again!"

"My word, isn't it!" said Jim. "Only it's hard to take in. I keepfancying that I'll certainly wake up in a minute and find myself ina trench, just getting ready to go over the top. What do you supposethey're doing at Billabong now, Nor?"

"Asleep, " said Norah promptly. "Oh, I don't know--I don't believeBrownie's asleep. "

"I know she's not, " Wally said. He and the old nurse-housekeeper ofBillabong were sworn allies; though no one could ever quite come up toJim and Norah in Brownie's heart, Wally had been a close third from theday, long years back, that he had first come to the station, a lonely, dark-eyed little Queenslander. "She's made the girls scrub and polishuntil there's nothing left for them to rub, and she's harried Hogg andLee Wing until there isn't a leaf looking crooked in all the garden, and she and Murty have planned all about meeting you for the hundred andfirst time. "

"And she's planning to make pikelets for you!" put in Norah. 

"Bless her. I wouldn't wonder. She's planning the very wildest cooking, of course--do you remember what the table used to be the night we camehome from school? And now she's gone round all the rooms to make sureshe couldn't spend another sixpence on them, and she's sitting by herwindow trying to see us all on the Nauru. 'Specially you, old Nor. "

"'Tis the gift of second sight you have, " said Jim admiringly. "Afew hundred years ago you'd have got yourself ducked as a witch orsomething. "

"Oh, Wally and Brownie were always twin souls; no wonder each knows whatthe other is thinking of, " Norah said, laughing. "It all sounds exactlytrue, at any rate. Boys, what a pity you can't land in uniform--wouldn'tthey all love to see you!"

"Can't do it, " Jim said. "Too long since we were shot out of the army;any enterprising provost-marshal could make himself obnoxious about it. "

"I know--but I'm sorry, " answered Norah. "Brownie won't be satisfiedunless she sees you in all your war paint. "

"We'll put it on some night for dinner, " Jim promised. He peeredsuddenly into the darkness. "There's a moving light--it's the pilotsteamer coming out for us. "

They watched the light pass slowly from the dim region that meant theHeads, until, as the pilot boat swung out through the Rip to where theNauru lay, her other lights grew clear, and presently her whole outlineloomed indistinctly, suddenly close to them. She lay to across a littleheaving strip of sea, and presently the pilot was being pulled acrossto them by a couple of men and was coming nimbly up the Nauru's ladder, hand over hand. He nodded cheerily at his welcome--a fusillade ofgreetings from every "digger" who could find a place at the railings, and a larger number who could not, but contented themselves withshouting sweet nothings from behind their comrades. A lean youngsternear Jim Linton looked down enviously at the retreating boat. 

"If I could only slide down into her, an' nick off to the old Alvinaover there, I'd be home before breakfast, " he said. "Me people live atQueenscliff--don't it seem a fair cow to have to go past 'em, right upto Melbourne?"

The pilot's head appeared above on the bridge, beside the captain's, andpresently the Nauru gathered way, and, slowly turning, forged throughthe tossing waters of the Rip. Before her the twin lights of the Headsopened out; soon she was gliding between them, and under the silent gunsof the Queenscliff forts, and past the twinkling house lights of thelittle seaside town. There were long coo-ees from the diggers, withshrill, piercing whistles of greeting for Victoria; from ashore camefaint answering echoes. But the four people from Billabong stoodsilently, glad of each other's nearness, but with no words, and in DavidLinton's heart and Norah's was a great surge of thankfulness that, outof many perils, they were bringing their boys safely home. 

The Nauru turned across Port Phillip Bay, and presently they felt theengines cease, and there came the rattle of the chain as the anchor shotinto the sea. 

"As the captain thought, " said Jim. "He fancied they'd anchor us offPortsea for the night and bring us up to Port Melbourne in the morning, after we'd been inspected. Wouldn't it be the limit if some onedeveloped measles now, and they quarantined us!"

"You deserve quarantining, if ever anyone did, " said Norah, indignantly. "Why do you have such horrible ideas?"

"I don't know--they just seem to waft themselves to me, " said Jimmodestly. "Anyhow, the quarantine station is a jolly little place fora holiday, and the sea view is delightful. " He broke off, laughing, andsuddenly flung his arm round her shoulders in the dusk of the deck. "Ithink I'm just about insane at getting home, " he said. "Don't mind me, old kiddie--and you'd better go to bed, or you'll be a ghost in themorning. "

They weighed anchor after breakfast, following a perfunctory medicalinspection--so perfunctory that one youth who, having been a medicalstudent, and knowing well that he had a finely-developed feverishcold, with a high temperature, and not wishing to embarrass hisfellow-passengers, placed in his mouth the wrong end of the clinicalthermometer handed him by the visiting nurse. He sucked this gravelyfor the prescribed time, reversing it just as she reappeared; and, beingmarked normal and given a clean bill of health, returned to his berthto shiver and perspire between huge doses of quinine. More than one suchhero evaded the searching eye of regulations; until finally the Nauru, free to land her passengers, steamed slowly up the Bay. 

One by one the old, familiar landmarks opened out--Mornington, Frankston, Mordialloc, while Melbourne itself lay hidden in a mist cloudahead. Then, as the sun grew stronger the mist lifted, and domes andspires pierced the dun sky, towering above the jumbled mass of the greycity. They drew closer to Port Melbourne, and lo! St. Kilda and all theforeshore were gay with flags, and all the ships in the harbour weredressed to welcome them; and beyond the pier were long lines of motors, each beflagged, waiting for the fighting men whom the Nauru was bringinghome. 

"Us!" said a boy. "Why, it's us! Flags an' motors--an' a blessed bandplayin' on the pier! Wot on earth are they fussin' over us for? Ain't itenough to get home?"

The band of the Nauru was playing Home, Sweet Home, very low andtenderly, and there were lumps in many throats, and many a pipe went outunheeded. Slowly the great ship drew in to the pier, where officers inuniform waited, and messengers of welcome from the Government. Beyondthe barriers that held the general public back from the pier was ablack mass of people; cheer upon cheer rose, to be wafted back fromthe transport, where the "diggers" lined every inch of the port side, clinging like monkeys to yards and rigging. Then the Nauru came to restat last, and the gangways rattled down, and the march off began, to thequick lilt of the band playing "Oh, it's a Lovely War. " The men tookup the words, singing as they marched back to Victoria--coming back, asthey had gone, with a joke on their lips. So the waiting motors receivedthem, and rolled them off in triumphal procession to Melbourne, betweenthe cheering crowds. 

From the top deck the Lintons, with the Rainhams, watched the mengo--disembarkation was for the troops first, and not till all had gonecould the unattached officers leave the ship. The captain came to them, at last a normal and friendly captain--no more the official master ofa troopship, in which capacity, as he ruefully said, he could make nofriends, and could scarcely regard his ship as his own, provided hebrought her safely from port to port. He cast a disgusted glance alongthe stained and littered decks. 

"This is her last voyage as a trooper, and I'm not sorry, " he said. "After this she'll lie up for three months to be refitted; and then I'llcommand a ship again and not a barracks. You wouldn't think now, to seeher on this voyage, that the time was when I had to know the reason whyif there was so much as a stain the size of a sixpence on the deck. Ohyes, it's been all part of the job, and I'm proud of all the old shiphas done, and the thousands of men she's carried; and we've had enoughnarrow squeaks, from mines and submarines, to fill a book. But I'mbeginning to hanker mightily to see her clean!"

The Lintons laughed unfeelingly. A little mild grumbling might well bepermitted to a man with his record; few merchant captains had done finerservice in the war, and the decoration on his breast testified to hiscool handling of his ship in the "narrow squeaks" he spoke of lightly. 

"Oh yes. I never get any sympathy, " said the captain, laughing himself. "And yet I'll wager Miss Linton was 'house-proud' in that 'Home forTired People' of hers, and she ought to sympathize with a tidy man. Youshould have seen my wife's face when she came aboard once at Liverpool, and saw the ship; and she's never had the same respect for me since!There--the last man is off the ship, and the gangways are clear; nothingto keep all you homesick people now. " He said good-bye, and ran up thesteps to his cabin under the bridge. 

It was a queer home-coming at first, to a vast pier, empty save for afew officials and policemen--for no outsiders were allowed within thebarriers. But once clear of customs officials and other formalitiesthey packed themselves into cabs, and in a few moments were outsidethe railed-off space, turning into a road lined on either side withpeople--all peering into the long procession of cabs, in the hope offinding their own returning dear ones. It was but a few moments before aposse of uncles, aunts and cousins swooped down upon the Lintons, whosecab prudently turned down a side street to let the wave of welcomeexpend itself. In the side street, too, were motors belonging to theaunts and uncles; and presently the new arrivals were distributed amongthem, and were being rushed up to Melbourne, along roads still crowdedby the people who had flocked to welcome the "diggers" home. TheRainhams found themselves adopted by this new and cheery band ofpeople--at least half of whose names they never learned; not that thisseemed to matter in the least. It was something new to them, and veryun-English; but there was no doubt that it made landing in a new countrya very different thing from their half-fearful anticipations. 

"And you really came out all alone--not knowing anyone!" said an aunt. "Aren't you English people plucky! And I believe that most of you thinkwe're all black fellows--or did until our diggers went home, and provedunexpectedly white!"

"I don't think we're quite so bad as that!" Bob said, laughing. "Butcertainly we never expected quite so kind a welcome. "

"Oh, we're all immensely interested in people who take the trouble tocome across the world to see us, " said Mrs. Geoffrey Linton. "That is, if they don't put on 'side'; we don't take kindly to being patronized. And you have no idea how many new chums do patronize us. Did you know, by the way, that you're new chums now?"

"It has been carefully drilled into us on the ship, " Bob said gravely. "I think we know pretty well all we have to face--the snakes that creepinto new chums' boots and sleep under their pillows, the goannas thatbite our toes if we aren't watchful, and the mosquitoes that sit on thetrees and bark!"

"Also the tarantulas that drop from everywhere, especially into food, "added Tommy, dimpling. "And the bush fires every Sunday morning, and theblacks that rush down--what is it? Oh yes, the Block, casting boomerangsabout! There is much spare time on a troopship, Mrs. Linton, and all ofit was employed by the subalterns in telling us what we might expect!"

"I can quite imagine it, " Mrs. Geoffrey laughed. "Oh well, Billabongwill be a good breaking-in. Norah tells me you are going up there atonce?"

"Well, not quite at once, " Bob said. "We think it is only fair to letthem get home without encumbrances, and as we have to present otherletters of introduction in Melbourne, we'll stay here for a few days, and then follow them. "

"Then you must come out to us, " said Mrs. Geoffrey firmly. "No use toask my brother-in-law, of course; he has just one idea, and that is tostay at Scott's, get his luggage through the customs, see his bankers asquickly as possible, and then get back to his beloved Billabong. If weget them out to dinner to-night, it's as much as we can hope for. Butyou two must come to us--we can run you here and there in the car to seethe people you want. " She put aside their protests, laughing. "Why, youdon't know how much we like capturing bran-new English people--and thinkwhat you have done for our boys all these four years! From what theytell us, if anyone wants to go anywhere or do anything he likes inEngland, all he has to do is to wear a digger's slouched hat!"

They stopped in Collins Street, and in a moment the new-comers, slightlybewildered, found themselves in a tea-room; a new thing in tea-roomsto Tommy and Bob, since it was a vision of russet and gold--brown wood, masses of golden wattle and daffodils, and of bronze gum leaves; andeven the waitresses flitted about in russet-brown dresses. David Lintonhung back at the doorway. 

"It isn't a party, Winifred?"

"My dear David, only a few people who want to welcome you back. Really, you're just as bad as ever!" said his sister-in-law, half vexed. "Thechildren's school friends, too--Jim and Wally's mates. You can't expectus to get you all back, after so long--and with all those honours, too!--and not give people a chance of shaking hands with you. " At whichpoint Norah said, gently, but firmly, "Dad, you mustn't be naughty, " andled him within. 

Some one grasped his hand. "Well, Linton, old chap!" And he foundhimself greeting the head of a big "stock and station" firm. Some oneelse clapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to meet his banker;behind them towered half a dozen old squatter friends, with fellowclubmen, all trying at once to get hold of his hand. David Linton'sconstitutional shyness melted in the heartiness of their greeting. Beyond them Norah seemed to be the centre of a mass of girls, one ofwhom presently detached herself, and came to him. He said in amazement, "Why, it's Jean Yorke--and grown up!" and actually kissed her, to thegreat delight of Jean, who had been an old mate of Norah's. As for Jimand Wally, they were scarcely to be seen, save for their heads, ina cluster of lads, who were pounding and smiting them wherever spacepermitted. Altogether, it was a confused and cheerful gathering, and, much to the embarrassment of the russet-brown waitresses, the last thinganybody thought of was tea. 

Still, when the buzz of greetings had subsided, and at length "morningtea"--that time-honoured institution of Australia--had a chance toappear, it was of a nature to make the new arrivals gasp. The last fouryears in England had fairly broken people in to plain living; daintiesand luxuries had disappeared so completely from the table that every onehad ceased to think about them. Therefore, the Linton party blinked inamazement at the details of what to Melbourne was a very ordinary tea, and, forgetting its manners, broke into open comment. 

"Cakes!" said Wally faintly. "Jean, you might catch me if I swoon. "

"What's wrong with the cakes?" said Jean Yorke, bewildered. 

"Nothing--except that they are cakes! Jim!"--he caught at his chum'ssleeve--"that substance in enormous layers in that enormous slice iscalled cream. Real cream. When did you see cream last, my son?"

"I'm hanged if I know, " Jim answered, grinning. "About four years ago, Isuppose. I'd forgotten it existed. And the cakes look as if they didn'tfall to pieces if you touched 'em. "

"What, do the English cakes do that?" asked a pained aunt. 

"Rather--when there are any. It's something they take out of the warflour--what is it, Nor?"

"Gluten, I think it's called, " said Norah doubtfully. "It's somethingthat ordinarily makes flour stick together, but they took it all out ofthe war flour, and put it into munitions. So everything you made withwar flour was apt to be dry and crumbly. And when you made cakes withit, and war sugar, which was half full of queer stuff like plaster ofparis, and egg substitute, because eggs--when you could get them--wereeightpence halfpenny, and butter substitute (and very little ofthat)--well, they weren't exactly what you would call cakes at all. "

"Butter substitute!" said the aunt faintly. "I could not live withoutgood butter!"

"Bless you, Norah and dad hadn't tasted butter for nearly three yearsbefore they came on board the Nauru, " said Jim. "It was affecting to seeNor greeting a pat of butter for the first time!"

"But you had some butter--we read about it. "

"Two ounces per head weekly--but they put all their ration into the'Tired People's food, '" said Wally. 

"It wasn't only dad and I, " said Norah quickly. "Every soul we employeddid that--Irish maids, butler, cook-lady and all. And we hadn't to askone of them to do it. The Tired People always had butter. They used tothink we had a special allowance from Government, but we hadn't. "

"Dear me!" said the aunt. "It's too terrible. And meat?"

"Oh, meat was very short, " said Norah, laughing. "Of course we werefairly well off for our Tired People, because they had soldiers'rations; but even so, we almost forgot what a joint looked like. Stewsand hot pots and made dishes--you call them that because you make themof anything but meat! We became very clever at camouflaging meat dishes. Somehow the Tired People ate them all. But"--she paused, laughing--"youknow I never thought I could feel greedy for meat. And I did--I justlonged, quite often, for a chop!"

"And could you not have one?"

"Gracious, no!" Norah looked amazed. "Chops were quite the mostextravagant thing of all--too much bone. You see, the meat rationincluded bone and fat, and I can tell you we were pretty badly worriedif we got too much of either. "

"To think of all she knows, " said the aunt, regarding her with a tearfuleye. Whereat Norah laughed. 

"Oh, I could tell you lots of homely things, " she said. "How we alwaysboiled bones for soup at least four times before we looked on them asused up; and how we worked up sheep's heads into the most wonderfulchicken galantines; and--but would you mind if I ate some walnut cakeinstead? It's making me tremble even to look at it. "

After which Jean Yorke and the russet-brown waitresses vied in plyingthe new-comers with the most elaborate cakes, until even Jim and Wallybegged for mercy. 

"You ought to remember we're not used to these things, " Wally protested, waving away a strange erection of cream, icing and wafery pastry. "IfI ate that it would go to my head, and I'd have to be removed in anambulance. And the awful part of it is--I want to eat it. Take it out ofmy sight, Jean, or I'll yield, and the consequences will be awful. "

"But it is too dreadful to think of all you poor souls have gonethrough, " said an aunt soulfully. "How little we in Australia know ofwhat war means!"

"But if it comes to that, how little we knew!" Norah exclaimed, "Why, there we were, only a few miles from the fighting--you could hear theguns on a still day, when a big action was going on; and except for thepeople who came directly in the way of air raids, England knew little ornothing of war: I mean, war as the people of Belgium and Northern Franceknew it. The worst we had to admit was that we didn't get everything weliked to eat, and that was a joke compared to what we might have had. Hardly anyone in England went cold or hungry through the war, and soI don't think we knew much about it either. " She broke off blushingfuriously, to find every one listening to her. "I didn't mean to make aspeech. "

"It's quite true, though, " said her father, "even if you did make aspeech about it. There were privations in some cases, no doubt--invalidssometimes suffered, or men used to a heavy meat diet, whose wives hadnot knowledge--or fuel--enough to cook substitutes properly. On theother hand, there was no unemployment, and the poor were better fed thanthey had ever been, since every one could make good wages at munitions. The death rate among civilians was very much lower than usual. Peoplelearned to eat less, and not to waste--and the pre-war waste in Englandwas terrific. And I say--and I think we all say--that anyone whogrumbles about 'privations' in England deserves to know what real warmeans--as the women of Belgium know it. "

He stopped, and Norah regarded him with great pride, since his remarkswere usually strictly limited to the fewest possible words. 

"Well, it's rather refreshing to hear you talk, " remarked anothersquatter. "A good many people have come back telling most pathetic talesof all they had to endure. I suppose, though, that some were worse offthan you?"

"Oh, certainly, " David Linton said. "We knew one Australian, anofficer's wife, who was stranded in a remote corner of South Waleswith two servants and two babies; it was just at the time of greatestscarcity before compulsory rationing began, when most of the foodcoming in was kept in the big towns and the Midlands. That woman couldcertainly get milk for her youngsters; but for three months the onlyfoods she and her maids were sure of getting were war bread, potatoes, haricot beans and salt herrings. She was a good way from the nearesttown, and there was deep snow most of the time. There was no carting outto her place, and by the time she could get into the town most of thefood shops would be empty. "

"And if you saw the salt herrings!" said Norah. "They come down fromScotland, packed thousands in a barrel. They're about the length andthickness of a comb, and if you soak them for a day in warm water andthen boil them, you can begin to think about them as a possible food. But Mrs. Burton and her maids ate them for three months. She didn't seemto think she had anything to grumble about--in fact, she said she stillfelt friendly towards potatoes, but she hoped she'd never see a herringor a bean again!"

"She had her own troubles about coal, too, " remarked Jim. "The only coaldown there is a horrible brownish stuff that falls into damp slack ifyou look at it; it's generally used only for furnaces, but people hadto draw their coal allowance from the nearest supply, and it was all shecould get. The only way to use the beastly stuff was to mix it with wet, salt mud from the river into what the country people call culm--then youcut it into blocks, or make balls of it, and it hardens. Shecouldn't get a man to do it for her, and she used to mix all her culmherself--and you wouldn't call it woman's work, even in Germany. But sheused to tell it as a kind of joke. "

"She used to look on herself as one of the really lucky women, " saidDavid Linton, "because her husband didn't get killed. And I think shewas--herrings and culm and all. And we're even luckier, since we've allcome back to Australia, and to such a welcome as you've given us. " Hestood up, smiling his slow, pleasant smile at them all. "And now Ithink I've got to go chasing the Customs, if I'm ever to disinter ourbelongings and get home. "

The girls took possession of Norah and Tommy, who left their menfolkto the drear business of clearing luggage, and thankfully spent theafternoon in the Botanical Gardens, glad to have firm ground undertheir feet after six weeks of sea. Then they all met at dinner at Mrs. Geoffrey Linton's, where they found her son, Cecil, who greeted Norahwith something of embarrassment. There was an old score between Norahand Cecil Linton, although they had not seen each other for years;but its memory died out in Norah's heart as she looked at her cousin'smilitary badge and noted that he dragged one foot slightly. Indeed, there was no room in Norah's heart for anything but happiness. 

The aunts and uncles tried hard to persuade David Linton to remain a fewdays in Melbourne, but he shook his head. 

"I've been homesick for five years, " he told them. "And it feels likefifty. I'll come down again, I promise--yes, and bring the children, ofcourse. But just now I can't wait. I've got to get home. "

"That old Billabong!" said Mrs. Geoffrey, half laughing. "Are you goingto live and die in the backblocks, David?"

"Why, certainly--at least I hope so, " he said. "I suppose there mustbe lucid intervals, now that Norah is grown up, or imagines she is--notthat she seems to me a bit different from the time when her hair wasdown. Still I suppose I must bring her to town, and let her make hercurtsy at Government House, and do all the correct things--"

Some one slipped a hand through his arm. 

"But when we've done them, daddy, " said Norah cheerfully, "there willalways be Billabong to go home to!"

CHAPTER X

BILLABONG

"Will it be fine, Murty?"

The person addressed made no answer for a moment, continuing to stareat the western horizon with his eyes wrinkled and his face anxious. Heturned presently; a tall, grizzled man, with the stooping shouldersand the slightly bowed legs that are the heritage of those who spendnine-tenths of their time in the saddle. 

"Sorra a one of me knows, " he said. "It's one of thim unchancy days thatmight be annything. Have ye looked at the glass?"

"It's mejum, " replied the first speaker. She was a vast woman, with abroad, kindly face, lit by shrewd and twinkling blue eyes, dressed, aswas her custom, in a starched blue print, with a snowy apron. "Mejumonly. But I don't feel comferable at that there bank of clouds, Murty. "

"I'd not say meself it was good, " admitted Murty O'Toole, head stockmanon the Billabong run. He looked again at the doubtful sky, and then backto Mrs. Brown. "Have ye no corns, at all, that 'ud be shootin' on ye ifrain was coming?"

"Corns I 'ave, indeed, " said Mrs. Brown, with the sigh of one who admitsthat she is but human. "But no--they ain't shootin' worth speakin'about, Murty. Nor me rheumatic knee ain't givin' tongue, as Master Jimwould say. "

"Yerra, that's all to the good, " said the stockman, much cheered. "I'llnot look at the ould sky anny longer--leastways, not till I have thatcup of tea ye were speakin' about. "

"Come in then, " said Mrs. Brown, leading the way into the kitchen--ahuge place so glittering with cleanliness and polish that it almost hurtthe eye. "Kettle's boilin'--I'll have it made in a jiffy. No, Murty, you will not sit on that table. Pounds of bath-brick 'ave gone into metables this last week. "

"Ye have them always that white I do not see how ye'd want them to bewhiter, " remarked Murty, gazing round him. "But I niver see anything toaiqual the shine ye have on them tins an' copper. And the stove is thatfine it's a shame to be cookin' with it. " He looked with respect at theblack satin and silver of the stove, where leaping flames glowed redly. "Well, I'll always say there isn't a heartsomer place to come into thanthe Billabong kitchen. And isn't it the little misthress that thinksso?"

"Bless her, she was always in and out of it from the time she couldtoddle, " said Mrs. Brown, pausing with the teapot in her hand. "Andshe wasn't much more than toddlin' before she was at me to teach herto cook. When she was twelve she could cook a dinner as well as anyonetwice her age. I never see the beat of her--handy as a man out on therun, too--"

"She was that, " said Murty solemnly. "Since she was a bit of a thing Inever see the bullock as could get away from her. And the ponies she'dride! There was nothin' ever looked through a bridle that cud frightenher. "

"Poof! Miss Norah didn't know what it was to be afraid, " said Mrs. Brown, filling the huge brown teapot. "Sometimes I've wished she was, for me heart's been in me mouth often and often when I see her gocaperin' down the track on some mad-'eaded pony. "

"An' there was niver a time when they was late home but you made surethe whole lot of 'em was killed, " said Murty, grinning. "I'd come inhere an' find you wit' all the funerals planned, so to speak--"

"Ah, go on! At least, I alwuz stayed at home when I was nervis, " saidMrs. Brown. "Who was it I've known catch an 'orse in the dark, an' gooff to look for 'em when they were a bit late? Not me, Mr. O'Toole!" Shefilled his cup and handed it to him with a triumphant air. 

"Yerra, I misremember doin' any such thing, " said Murty, slightlyconfused. "'Tis the way I was most likely goin' afther a sick bullock, or it might be 'possum shootin'. " He raised his cup and took a deepdraught; then, with a wry face, gazed at its contents. "I dunno is thisa new brand of tea you're afther usin', now? Sure, it looks pale. "

Mrs. Brown cast a glance at the cup he held out, and gave a gasp ofhorror. 

"Well, not in all me born days 'ave I made tea an' forgot to put the teain!" she exclaimed, snatching it from his hand. "Don't you go an' tellDave and Mick, Murty, or I'll never hear the end of it. Lucky there'splenty of hot water. " She emptied the teapot swiftly, and refilled it, this time with due regard to the tea-caddy. 

"Now, Murty, don't you sit there grinnin' at me like a hyener--it isn'tevery day I get Miss Norah home. "

"It is not, " said Murty, taking his renewed cup and a large piece ofbread and butter. "Sure, I'd not blame ye if ye fried bacon in thetea-pot--not this morning. I dunno, meself, am I on me head or me heels. All the men is much the same; they've been fallin' over each other, tryin' to get a little bit of extra spit-an'-polish on the whole place. I b'lieve Dave Boone wud 'a' set to work an' whitewashed the paddockfences if I'd encouraged him at all. "

"There's that Sarah, " said Mrs. Brown. "Ornery days it takes me, analarum clock, an' Mary, to say nothin' of a wet sponge, to get her outof bed. But bless you--these last three days she's up before the pairof us, rubbin' an' polishin' in every corner. An' she an' 'Ogg at eachother's throats over flowers; she wantin' to pick every one to lookpretty in the 'ouse, an' 'Ogg wantin' every one to look pretty in thegarden. "

"Well, Hogg's got enough an' to spare, " was Murty's comment. "No uniontouch about his work. I reckon he's put in sixteen hours a day at thatgarden since we heard they were comin'. "

"But there never was any union touch about Billabong, " said Mrs. Brown. 

"Not much! We all know when we're well off, " said Murty. "I'll bet nounion was ever as good a boss as David Linton. "

Two other men appeared at the kitchen door--Mick Shanahan and DaveBoone--each wearing, in defiance of regulations, some battered remnantof uniform that marked the "digger, " while Mick, in addition, would walkalways with a slight limp. He was accustomed to say 'twas a mercy itdidn't hinder his profession--which, being that of a horsebreaker, freedhim, as a rule, from the necessity of much walking. Other men Billabonghad sent to the war, and not all of them had come back; the lonelystation had been a place of anxiety and of mourning. But to-day thememories of the long years of fighting and waiting were blotted out injoy. 

"Come in, boys, " Mrs. Brown nodded at the men. "Tea's ready. What's itgoing to be?"

"Fine, I think, " said Boone, replying to this somewhat indefinitequestion with complete certainty as to the questioner's meaning. "Iseen you an' Murty pokin' your heads up at them clouds, but there ain'tnothin' in them. " A smile spread over his good-looking, dark face. "Bless you, it couldn't rain today, with Miss Norah comin' home!"

"I don't believe, meself, that Providence 'ud 'ave the 'eart, " said Mrs. Brown. "Picksher them now, all flyin' round and gettin' ready to start, and snatchin' a bite of breakfast--"

"If I know Master Jim 'twill be no bite he'll snatch!" put in Mick. 

"Well, all I 'ope is that the 'otel don't poison them, " said Mrs. Brown darkly. "I on'y stopped in a Melbin' 'otel once, and then I gotpot-o'-mine poisoning, or whatever they call it. I've 'eard they neverwash their saucepans!"

"No wonder you get rummy flavours in what you eat down there, if that'sso, " said Dave. "Surprisin' what the digestions of them city peoplelearn to put up with. Well, I suppose you won't be addin' to their risksby puttin' up much of a dinner for them to-day, Mrs. Brown. " He grinnedwickedly. 

"You go on, imperence!" said the lady. "If I let you look into thelarder now (w'ich I won't, along of knowin' you too well), there'd beno gettin' you out to work to-day. Murty, that turkey weighedfive-and-thirty pound!"

"Sure he looked every ounce of it, " said Murty. "I niver see hisaiqual--he was a regular Clydesdale of a bird!"

"I rose him from the aig meself, " said Mrs. Brown, "and I don't thinkI could 'a' brung meself to 'ave 'im killed for anythink less than themcomin' 'ome. As it was, I feel 'e's died a nobil death. An' 'e'll eatbeautiful, you mark my words. "

"Well, it'll be something to think of the Boss at the head of his table, investigatin' a Billabong turkey again, " said Boone, putting down hisempty cup. "And as there's nothing more certain than that they'll all beout at the stables d'reckly after dinner, wantin' to see the 'orses, youan' I'd better go an' shine 'em up a bit more, Mick. " They tramped outof the kitchen, while Mrs. Brown waddled to the veranda and cast furtheranxious glances at the bank of clouds lying westward. 

Norah was watching them, too. She was sitting in the corner of thecompartment, as the swift train bore them northward, with her eyes gluedto the country flying past. Just for once the others did not matter toher; her father, Jim, and Wally, each in his own corner, as they hadtravelled so many times in the past, coming back from school. Then shehad had eyes only for them; to-day her soul was hungry for the dearcountry she had not seen for so long. It lay bare enough in the earlywinter--long stretches of stone-walled paddocks where the red soilshowed through the sparse, native grass; steep, stony hillsides, withlittle sheep grazing on them--pygmies, after the great English sheep;oases of irrigation, with the deep green of lucerne growing rank amongweed-fringed water-channels; and so on and on, past little townsand tiny settlements, and now and then a stop at some place of moreimportance. But Norah did not want the towns; she was homesick for theopen country, for the scent of the gum trees coming drifting in throughthe open window, for the long, lonely plains where grazing cattle raisedlazy eyes to look at the roaring engine, or horses flung up nervousheads and went racing away across the grass--more for the fun of it thanfrom fear. The gum trees called to her, beckoned to her; she forgot thesmooth perfection of the English landscape as she feasted her eyes onthe dear, untidy trees, whose dangling strips of bark seemed to wave toher in greeting, telling her she was coming home. They passed a greatteam of working bullocks in a wagon loaded with an enormous tree trunk;twenty-four monsters, roan and red and speckled, with a great pair ofpolled Angus in the lead; they plodded along in their own dust, theirdriver beside them with his immense whip over his shoulder. Norahpointed them out to the others with a quick exclamation, and Jim andWally came to look out from her window. 

"By Jove, what a team!" said Jim. "Well, just at this moment I'd rathersee those fellows than the meet of the Coaching Club in Hyde Park--and Ihad a private idea that that was the finest sight in the world!"

"Aren't you a jungly animal!" quoth Wally. 

"Rather--just now, " Jim rejoined. "Some day, I suppose, I'll be glad togo back to London, and look at it all again. But just now there doesn'tseem to be anything to touch a fellow's own country--and that team ofold sloggers there is just a bit of it. Isn't it, old Nor?" She noddedup at him; there was no need of words. 

The morning was drawing towards noon when they came in sight of theirown little station: Cunjee, looking just as they had left it years ago, its corrugated iron roofs gleaming in the sunlight, its one street greenwith feathery pepper trees along each side. The train pulled up, andthey all tumbled out hastily; presumably the express wasted no more timeupon Cunjee than in days gone by, when it was necessary to hustle outof the carriage, and to race along to the van, lest the whistle shouldsound and your trunks be whisked away somewhere down the line. 

There were many people on the platform, and, wonderful to relate, a bandwas playing--Home Sweet Home; a little band, some of its musicians stillin the aprons in which they had rushed from their shop duties; withinstruments few and poor, and with not much training, so that the cornetwas apt to be half a bar ahead of the euphonium. The Lintons had heardmany bands since they had been away, and some had played before the Kinghimself; but no music had ever gripped at their heartstrings like themusic of the little backblocks band that stood on the gravelled platformof Cunjee and played to welcome them home. 

Suddenly, as they stood bewildered, there seemed people all round them;kindly, homely faces, gripping their hands, shouting greetings. Evans, the manager of Billabong, showed a delighted face for a moment, said, "Luggage in the van. I'll see to it; don't you bother, " and was gone. Little Dr. Anderson and his wife, friends of long years, were trying toshake hands with all four at once. They were the centre of an excitedlittle crowd--and found it hard to believe that it was really for them. The train roared away, unnoticed, and the station-master and the porterran up to add their voices to the chorus. Somehow they were outside thestation, gently propelled; and there was a great arch of gum leaves, with a huge WELCOME in red letters, and beneath it were the shirepresident and his councillors, and other weighty men, all with speechesready. But the speeches did not come to much, for the shire presidenthad lads himself who had gone to the war, and a lump came in his throatas he looked at the tall boys from Billabong, whom he had known aslittle children; so that half the fine things he had prepared were neversaid--which did not matter, since he had it all written out and gaveit to the reporter of the local paper afterwards! Something ofspeech-making there undoubtedly was, but no one could have told you muchabout it--and suddenly it ended in some one calling for "Three cheers!"which every one gave with a will, while the band played that they wereJolly Good Fellows--and some of the band cheered while they played, withvery curious results. Then David Linton tried to speak, and that was afailure also, as far as eloquence went; but nobody seemed to mind. So, between hand grips and cheers, they made their way through the welcomeof Cunjee to where the big double buggy of Billabong stood, with threefidgeting brown horses, each held by a volunteer. Beyond that was thecarry-all of the bush; an express wagon, with a grinning black boy atthe horses' heads--and Norah went to him with outstretched hands. 

"Why, Billy!" she said. 

Billy's grin expanded in a perfectly reckless fashion. 

"Plenty glad!" he stammered--and thereby doubled his usual output ofwords. 

Willing hands were tossing their luggage into the wagon--unfamiliarluggage to Cunjee, with its jumble of ship labels, Continental hotelbrands, and the names of towns all over England, Ireland and Scotland. There were battered tin uniform cases of Jim and Wally's, bearing theirrank and regiment in half effaced letters: "Major J. Linton"; "CaptainW. Meadows"--it was hard to realize that they belonged to the twomerry-faced boys, who did not seem much changed from the days whenCunjee had seen them arrive light-heartedly from school. Mr. Linton ranhis eye over the pile, pronouncing it complete. Then Evans was at hisside. 

"The motor you sent is ready at the garage in the township if you wantit, " he said. "But you wired that I was to bring the buggy. "

"I did, " said David Linton, with a slow smile. "I suppose forconvenience sake we'll have to shake down to using the motor. But Idrove the old buggy away from Billabong, and I'll drive home now. Jumpin, children. "

He gathered up the reins, sitting, erect and spare, with one foot on thebrake, while the brown horses plunged impatiently, and the volunteersfound their work cut out in holding them. Norah was by him, Evans on herother hand; Jim and Wally "tumbled up" into the back seat, as they haddone so many times. David Linton looked down at the crowd below. 

"Thank you all again, " he said. "We'll see you soon--it's not good-byenow, only 'so-long. ' Let 'em go, boys. "

The volunteers sprang back, thankfully. The browns stood on their hindlegs for a moment, endeavouring to tie themselves in knots; then thewhip spoke, and they came to earth, straightened themselves out with aflying plunge, and wheeled out of the station yard and up thestreet. Behind them cheers broke out afresh, and the band blared oncemore--which acted as a further spur to the horses; they were pullingdouble as the high buggy flashed along the street, where every house andevery shop showed smiling faces, and handkerchiefs waved in welcome. Sothey passed through Cunjee, and wheeled to the right towards the opencountry--the country that meant Billabong. 

There were seventeen miles of road ahead, but the browns made little ofthem. They had come into the township the evening before, and had donenothing since but eat the hotel oats and wish to be out of a closestable and back in their own free paddocks. They took the hills at aswift, effortless trot, and on the down slopes broke into a hand-gallop;light-hearted, but conscious all the time of the hand on the reins, thatwas as steel, yet light as a feather upon a tender mouth. They dancedmerrily to one side when they met a motor or a hawker's van withflapping cover; when the buggy rattled over a bridge they plainlyregarded the drumming of their own hoofs as the last trump, and fledwildly for a few hundred yards, before realizing that nothing was reallygoing to happen to them. But the miles fled under their swift feet. Thetrim villas near the township gave place to scattered farms. These intheir turn became further and further apart, and then they entered awide belt of timber, ragged and wind-swept gums, with dense undergrowthof dogwood and bracken fern. The metalled road gave place to a hard, earthern track, on which the spinning tyres made no sound; it curved inand out among the trees, which met overhead and cast upon it a wavingpattern of shadows. Grim things had once happened to Norah in this beltof trees, and the past came back to her as she looked at its gloomyrecesses again. 

They were all silent. There had been few questions to ask of Evans, afew to be answered; then speech fled from them and the old spell of thecountry held them in its power. Every yard was familiar; every littlebridge, every culvert, every quaint old skeleton tree or dead grey log. Here Jim's pony had bolted at sight of an Indian hawker, in days longgone, and had ended by putting his foot into a hole and turning asomersault, shooting Jim into a well-grown clump of nettles. Here Norahhad dropped her whip when riding alone, and her fractious young mare hadsucceeded in pulling away when she dismounted, and had promptly departedpost-haste for home; leaving her wrathful owner to follow as she might. A passing bullock-wagon had given her a lift, and the somewhat anxiousrescue party, setting out from Billabong, had met its youthful mistress, bruised from much bumping, but otherwise cheerful, progressing in slowmajesty towards its gates. Here--but the memories were legion, even tothe girl and the two boys. And David Linton's went further back, to theday when he had first driven Norah's mother over the Billabong track;little and dainty and merry, while he had been as always, silent, butunspeakably proud of her. The little mother's grave had long been green, and the world had turned topsy-turvy since then, but the old track wasthe same, and the memory, and the pride, were no less clear. 

They emerged from the timber at last, and spun across a wide plain, scattered with clumps of gum-trees. Then another belt of bush, a narrowone this time; and they came out within view of a great park-likepaddock where Shorthorn bullocks, knee-deep in grass, scarcely movedaside as the buggy spun past, with the browns pulling hard. The trackran near the fence, and turned in at a big white gate glistening withnew paint. It stood wide open, and beside it was a man on a splendid bayhorse. 

"There's Murty, and he's on Garryowen, " spoke Jim quickly. "The oldbrick!"

"I guess if anyone else had wanted to open the gate for you to-day, he'dhave had to fight Murty for the job, " said Evans. "And Garryowen's beengroomed till he turns pale at the sight of a brush, Great horse he'smade, Mr. Jim. "

"He's all that, " said his owner, leaning out to view him better, withhis eyes shining. He raised his voice in a shout as they swung inthrough the gateway. "Good for you, Murty! Hurroo!"

"Hurroo for ye all!" said Murty, and found to his amazement that hisvoice was shaky. "Ah, don't shtop, sir, they're all waitin' on ye. I'llbe up as soon as ye. "

Norah had tried to speak, and had found that she had no voice at all. She could only smile at him, tremulously--and be sure the Irishman didnot fail to catch the smile. Then, as they dashed up the paddock, herhand sought for her father's knee under the rug, in the little gesturethat had been hers from babyhood. The track curved round a grove ofgreat pines, and suddenly they were within sight of Billabong homestead, red-walled and red-roofed, nestled in the deep green of its trees. 

"By Jove!" said Jim, under his breath. "I thought once I'd never see theold place again. "

They flashed through mighty red gums and box trees, Murty gallopingbeside them now. There was a big flag flying proudly on Billabonghouse--they found later that the household had unanimously purchased iton the day they heard that Jim had got his captaincy. The gate of thegreat sanded yard stood open, and near it, on a wide gravel sweep, werethe dear and simple and faithful people they loved. Mrs. Brown first, starched and spotless, her hair greyer than it had been five yearsbefore, with Sarah and Mary beside her--they had married during the war, but nothing had prevented them from coming back to make Billabong ready. Near them the storekeeper, Jack Archdale, and his pretty wife, withtheir elfish small daughter; and Mick Shanahan and Dave Boone, with theScotch gardener, Hogg, and his Chinese colleague--and sworn enemy--LeeWing. They were all there, a little welcoming group--but Norah could seethem only through a mist of happy tears. The buggy stopped, and Evanssprang out over the wheel; she followed him almost as swiftly, runningto the old woman who had been all the mother she had known. 

"Oh, Brownie--Brownie!"

"My precious lamb!" said Brownie, and held her tightly. She had no handsleft for Jim and Wally, and they did not seem to mind; they kissed her, patting her vast shoulders very hard. Then Mrs. Archdale claimed Norah, and Brownie found herself looking mistily up at David Linton and he wasgripping her hand tightly, the other hand on her shoulder. 

"Why, old Brownie!" he said. "Dear old Brownie!"

They were shaking hands all round, over and over again. Nobody made anyspeeches of welcome--there were only disjointed words, and once ortwice a little sob. Indeed, Brownie only found her tongue when they haddrifted across the yard in a confused group, and had reached the wideveranda. Then she looked up at Jim and seemed suddenly to realize hismighty height and breadth. 

"Oh!" she said. "Oh! Ain't 'e grown big an' beautiful!" Whereat Wallyhowled with laughter, and Jim, scarlet, kissed her again, and told hershe was a shameful old woman. 

No one on Billabong could have told you much of that day, afterthe first wonderful moment of getting home. It was a day of blurredmemories. The new-comers had to wander through the house where every bigwindow stood open to the sunlight, and every room was gay with flowers;and from every window it was necessary to look out at the view acrossthe paddocks and down at the gardens, and to follow the winding courseof the creek. The gong summoned them to dinner in the midst of it, andBrownie's dinner deserved to be remembered; the mammoth turkey flankedby a ham as gigantic, and somewhat alarming to war-trained appetites;followed by every sweet that Brownie could remember as having been afavourite. They drifted naturally to the stables afterwards, to findtheir special horses, apparently little changed by five years, thoughsome old station favourites were gone, and the men spoke proudly of somenew young ones that were going to be "beggars to go, " or "a caution tojump. " Then they wandered down to the big lagoon, where the old boatyet lay at the edge of the reed-fringed water; and on through the homepaddock to look at the little herd of Jerseys that were kept for theuse of the house, and some great bullocks almost ready for the Melbournemarket. So they came back to the homestead, wandering up from the creekthrough Lee Wing's rows of vegetables, and came to rest naturally in thekitchen, where they had afternoon tea with Brownie, who beamed from earto ear at the sight of Jim and Wally again sitting on her table. 

"I used to think of you in them 'orrible trenches, an' wonder wot yougot to eat, an' if it was anything at all, " she said tremulously. 

"We got something, but it was apt to be queer, " said Jim, laughing. "We used to think of sitting on the table here, Brownie, and eating hotscones--like this. May I have another?"

"My pore dears!" said Brownie, hastily supplying him with the largestscone in sight. "Now, Master Wally, my love, ain't you ready foranother? Your appetite's not 'alf wot it used to be. A pikelet, now?"

"I believe I've had six!" said Wally, defending himself. 

"An' wot used six pikelets to be to you? A mere fly in the ointment, "said Brownie, whose similes were always apt to be peculiar. "Justanother, then, my dear. An' I've got your fav'rite sponge cake, MissNorah--ten aigs in it!"

"Ten!" said Norah faintly. "Hold me, daddy! Doesn't it make you feellight-headed to think of putting ten eggs in one cake again?"

"An' why not?" sniffed Brownie. "Ah, you got bad treatment in that oldEngland. I never could see why you should go short, an' you all 'elpin'on the war as 'ard as you could. " Brownie's indifference to nationalconsiderations where her nurselings were concerned was well known, andnobody argued with her. "Any'ow, the cake's there, an' just you tryit--it's as light as a feather, though I do say it. "

Once in the kitchen Norah and the boys went no further. They remainedsitting on the tables, talking, while presently David Linton went awayto his study, and, one by one, Murty and Boone and Mick Shanahan driftedin. There was so much to tell, so much to ask about; they talked untilthe dusk of the short winter afternoon stole into the kitchen, makingthe red flames in the stove leap more redly. It was time to dress fortea. They went round the wide verandas and ran upstairs to their rooms, while old Brownie stood in the kitchen doorway listening to the merryvoices. 

"Ain't it just 'evinly to 'ear 'em again!" she uttered. 

"It is that, " said Murty. "We've been quare an' lonesome an' quiet thesefive years. "

CHAPTER XI

COLONIAL EXPERIENCES

Cecilia--otherwise Tommy--and Bob Rainham came up to Billabong threedays later, and were met by Jim, who had ridden into Cunjee with BlackBilly, and released the motor from inglorious seclusion in the localgarage. Billy jogged off, leading Garryowen, and Jim watched them halfwistfully for a minute before turning to the car. Motors had their usescertainly; but no Linton ever dreamed of giving a car the serious andrespectful consideration that naturally belonged to a horse. 

Nevertheless, it was a good car; a gift to Norah from an Irishmanthey had known and loved; and Jim drove well, having developed theaccomplishment over Flemish roads that were chiefly a succession ofshell holes. He took her quietly up to the station, and walked on to theplatform as the train thundered in. 

Tommy and Bob were looking eagerly from their carriage window, andhailed him with delight; they had been alone, for the first time sinceleaving England, and had begun to feel that Australia was a large andslightly populated country, and that they were inconsiderable atoms, suddenly dumped into its vacant spaces. Jim was like a large andfriendly rock, and Australia immediately became less wide and desolatein their eyes. He greeted them cheerily and helped Bob to pack theirluggage into the car. 

"Now, I could get you afternoon tea here, " he said; "and I warn you, it will be bad. Or I could have you home in well under an hour, and youwouldn't be too late for tea there. Which is it to be, Tommy?"

"Oh--home, " said Tommy. "I don't care a bit about tea; and I want to seethis Billabong of yours. Do let's go, Jim. "

"I hoped you wouldn't choose tea here, " said Jim, striding off to thecar. "Bush townships don't run to decent tea places, as a rule; thehotel is the only chance, and though they can give you a fair dinner, tea always seems to be a weak spot. " He packed them in, and they movedoff down the winding street. 

"Do you know, " Jim said, "that I never went down this street beforeexcept on a horse, or behind one? It seems quite queer and unnaturalto be doing it in a car. I suppose I'll get used to it. Had a good tripup?"

"Oh, quite, " Tommy told him. "Jim, how few people seem to be living inAustralia!"

Jim gave a crack of laughter. 

"Well, you saw a good many in Melbourne, didn't you?" he asked. 

"Oh, yes. But Melbourne isn't Australia. It's only away down in a weelittle corner. " Tommy flushed a little. "You see, I haven't seen much ofany country except France and the England that's near London, " she said. "And there isn't much waste space there. "

"No, there isn't, " Jim agreed. "I suppose we'll fill up Australia someday. But the people who come out now seem to have a holy horror of goinginto the 'waste spaces, ' as you call 'em, Tommy. They want to nestle upto the towns, and go to picture theatres. "

"Well, I want to go and find a nice waste space, " said Tommy. "Not toowaste, of course, only with room to look all round. And I'd like itto be not too far from Norah, 'cause she's very cheering to a lonenew-chum. But don't you go planning to settle in one of those horridlittle tin-roofed towns, Bobby, for I should simply hate it. "

"Certainly, ma'am, " said Bob cheerfully. "We'll get out into the open. Ican always run you about in an aeroplane, if you feel lonesome, providedwe make enough money to buy one, that is. Only new-chums don't alwaysmake heaps of money, do they, Jim?"

"Not at first, I'm afraid, " Jim said. "The days of picking up fortunesin Australia seem to be over; anyway, there's no more gold lying about. Nowadays, you have to put your back into it extremely hard, if you've nocapital to start with; and even if you have, you can't loaf. How did youget on in Melbourne? I hope you didn't buy a station without consultingus. "

"Rather not, " Bob answered. "We raced round magnificently in your aunt'scar and presented our letters, and had more invitations to sundry mealsthan we could possibly accept. Every one was extraordinarily kind to us. I've offers and promises of advice in whatever district we settle; threesquatters asked me up to their places, to stay awhile and study thecountry; and one confiding man--I hadn't a letter to him at all, by theway, only some one introduced us to him in Scott's--actually offered mea job as jackeroo on a Queensland run. But he was a lone old bachelor, and when he heard I had a sister he shied off in terror. I think he'srunning yet. "

Jim shouted with laughter. 

"Poor old Tommy!" he said. 

"Yes, is it not unfair?" said Tommy. "I told Bob I was a mereencumbrance, but he would bring me. "

"You wait until you've settled, and Bob wants some one to run his house, and then see how much of an encumbrance you are, " rejoined Jim. "Thenyou'll suddenly stop being meek and get swelled head. "

"And not be half so nice, " interjected Bob. 

"But so useful!" said Tommy demurely. "Only sometimes I becomeafraid--for you seem always to kill a whole sheep or bullock up in thebush, and how I am to deal with it I do not know!"

"It sounds as if you preferred some one to detach an occasional limbfrom the sheep as it walked about!" said Jim, laughing. 

"Much easier for me--if not for the sheep, " said Tommy. 

"Well, don't you worry--the meat problem will get settled somehow, " Jimtold her cheerfully. "All problems straighten out, if you give 'em time. Now we're nearly home--that's the fence of our home-paddock. And thereare Norah and Wally coming to meet you. "

"Oh--where?" Tommy started up, looking excitedly round the landscape. "Oh--there she is--the dear! And isn't that a beautiful horse!"

"That's Norah's special old pony, Bosun, " said Jim. "We're making hervery unhappy by telling her she's grown too big for him, but he reallycarries her like a bird. A habit might look too much on him, but notthat astride kit. You got yours, by the way, Tommy, I hope?"

"Oh yes. I look very strange in it, " said Tommy. "And Bob thinks I mightas well have worn out his old uniforms. But I shall never ride likethat--as Norah does. "

She looked at Norah, who was coming across the paddock with Wally, at ahard canter. Her pony was impatient, reefing and plunging in his desireto gallop; and Norah was sitting him easily, her hands, well down, giving to the strain on the bit, her slight figure, in coat andbreeches, swaying lightly to each bound. The sunlight rippled on Bosun'sglossy, bay coat, and on the big black horse Wally rode. They pulledup, laughing, at the gateway, just as the car turned off the road. Therewere confused and enthusiastic greetings, and the car dashed on up thetrack, with an outrider on each side--both horses strongly resentingthis new and ferocious monster. The years had brought a good deal ofsober sense to Bosun and Monarch, but motors were still unfamiliarobjects on Billabong. Indeed, no car of the size of Norah's Rolls-Roycehad ever been seen in the district, and the men gaped at it open-mouthedas Jim drove it round to the stable after unloading his passengers. 

"Yerra, but that's the fine carry-van, " said Murty. "Is that the sizethey have them in England, now?"

"No, it isn't, Murty--not as a rule, " Jim answered. "This was builtspecially for a man who was half an invalid; he used to go for longtours, and sleep in the car because he hated hotels. So it's a specialsize. It used to be jolly useful taking out wounded men in England. "

"Sure, it would be, " Murty said. "Only--somehow, it don't seem to fitinto Billabong, Mr. Jim!"

"So big as that! I say, Murty!"

"Yerra, there's room enough for it, " grinned the Irishman. "Only, motorsand Billabong don't go hand in hand--we've always stuck to horses, haven't we, Mr. Jim?"

"We'll do that still, " Jim said. "But it will be useful, all the same, Murty. " He laughed at the stockman's lugubrious face. "Oh, I know it'sgiving you the sort of pain you had when dad had the telephone put on--"

"Well, 'tis the quare onnatural little machine, an' I niver feel anywaysat home with it, Mr. Jim, " Murty defended himself. 

"There's lots like you, Murty. But you'll admit that when we've gotto send a telegram, it's better to telephone it than make a man ridethirty-four miles with it?"

"I suppose it is, " said the Irishman doubtfully. "I dunno, though--if'twas that black imp of a Billy he'd as well be doing that as proppingup the stable wall an' smokin'!"

Jim chuckled. 

"There's no getting round an Irishman when he makes up his mind, " hesaid. "And if you had to catch the eight o'clock train to MelbourneI believe you'd rather get up at three in the morning and run up thehorses to drive in, than leave here comfortably in the car at seven. "

"Is it me to dhrive in it?" demanded Murty, in horror. "Begob, I'd loseme life before I'd get into one of thim quare, sawed-off things. Giveme something with shafts, Mr. Jim, and a dacint horse in them. More bytoken, I would not get up at three in the morning either, but dhrive inaisy an' comfortable the night before. " He beamed on Jim with so cleara conviction that he was unanswerable that Jim hadn't the heart toargue further. Instead he ran the car deftly into a buggy-shed whencean ancient double buggy had been deposed to make room for her, and thenfell to discussing with Murty the question of building a garage, witha turn-table and pit for cleaning and repairs. To which Murty gavethe eager interest and attention he would have shown had Jim proposedbuilding anything, even had it been an Eiffel Tower on the front lawn. 

Brownie came out through the box-trees to the stables, presently. 

"Now, Master Jim, afternoon tea's in these ten minutes. "

"Good gracious! I forgot all about tea!" Jim exclaimed. "Thanks awfully, Brownie. Had your own?" He slipped his arm through hers as they turnedback to the house. 

"Not yet, my dear, " said Brownie, beaming up at him. That this hugeMajor, with four years of war service to his credit, was exactly thesame to her as the little boy she had bathed and dressed in years goneby, was a matter of nightly thanksgiving in her prayers. "I was justgoin' to settle to it when it come over me that you weren't in--and thevisitors there an' all. "

"I'd come and have mine with you in the kitchen if they weren't there, "Jim told her. "Tea in your kitchen is better than anything else. " Hepatted her shoulders as he left her at the door of her domain, going offwith long strides to wash his hands. 

"We didn't wait for you, " Norah said, as he came into the drawing-room;a big cheery room, with long windows opening out upon the veranda, and aconservatory at one end. A fire of red gum logs made it pleasantlywarm; the tea table was drawn near its blaze, and the arm-chairs madea semicircle round it. "These poor people looked far too hungry towait--to say nothing of Wally and myself. How did the car go, Jimmy?"

"Splendidly, " Jim said, taking his cup, and retiring from the tea-tablewith a scone. "Never ran better; that man in Cunjee knows his job, whichI didn't expect. Are you tired, Tommy?"

"Tired?--no, " said Tommy. "I was very hungry, but that is gettingbetter. And Norah is going to show me Billabong, so I could not possiblydream of being tired. "

"If Norah means to show you all Billabong before dark, she'll haveto hurry, " said Jim lazily. "Don't you let yourself be persuaded intoanything so desperate, Tommy. "

"Don't you worry; I'll give her graduated doses, " Norah said. "I'llwatch the patient carefully, and see if there is any sign of strengthfailing. When do you begin to teach Bob to run a station?"

"I never saw anyone in such a hurry, " said Jim. "Why, the poor beggarhasn't had his tea yet--give him time. "

"But we are in a hurry, " said Tommy. "We're burning to learn all aboutit. Norah is to teach me the house side, while you instruct Bob how totell a merino bullock--is it not?--from an Ayrshire. " Everybody ate withsuspicious haste, and she looked at them shrewdly. "Now, I have saidthat all wrong, I feel sure, but it's just as well for you to beprepared for that. Norah will have a busy time correcting my mistakes. "

"You aren't supposed to know anything about cattle and things likethat, " said Norah. "And when it comes to the house side, I don't thinkyou'll find I can teach you much--if anyone brought up to know Frenchcooking and French housekeeping has much to learn from a backblocksAustralian, I'll be surprised. "

"In fact, " said Mr. Linton, "I should think that the lessons willgenerally end in the students of domestic economy fleeing forth uponhorses and studying how to deal with beef--on the hoof. Don't you, Wally?"

"Rather, " said Wally. "And Brownie will wash up after them, and say, 'Bless their hearts, why would they stay in a hot kitchen!' And so poorold Bob will go down the road to ruin!"

"It's a jolly prospect, " said Bob placidly. "I think we'll knock a gooddeal of fun out of it!"

They trooped out in a body presently on their preliminary voyageof discovery; touring the house itself, with its big rooms and widecorridors, and the broad balconies that ran round three sides, fromwhich you looked far across the run--miles of rolling plains, dottedwith trees and clumps of timber, and merging into a far line of low, scrub-grown hills. Then outside, and to the stables--a massive red brickpile, creeper-covered, where Monarch and Garryowen, and Bosun, and thebuggy ponies, looked placidly from their loose boxes, and asked for--andgot--apples from Jim's pockets. Tommy even made her way up the steepladder to the loft that ran the whole length of the stables--big enoughfor the men's yearly dance, but just now crammed with fragrant oatenhay. She wanted to see everything, and chatted away in her eager, half-French fashion, like a happy child. 

"It is so lovely to be here, " she told Norah later, when the keenevening wind had driven them indoors from a tour of the garden. She waskneeling on the floor of her bedroom, unpacking her trunk, while Norahperched on the end of the bed. "You see, I am no longer afraid; and Ihave always been afraid since Aunt Margaret died. In Lancaster Gate Iwas afraid all the time, especially when I was planning to run away. Then, on the ship, though every one was so kind, the big, unknowncountry was like a wall of Fear ahead; even in Melbourne everythingseemed uncertain, doubtful. But now, quite suddenly, it is all right. Ijust know we shall get along quite well. "

"Why, of course you will, " Norah said, laughing down at the earnestface. "You're the kind of people who must do well, because you are sokeen. And Billabong has adopted you, and we're going to see that youmake a success of things. You're our very own immigrants!"

"It's nice to be owned by some one who isn't my step-mother, " said Tommyhappily. "I began to think I was hers, body and soul--when she appearedon that awful moment in Liverpool. I made sure all hope was over. Bobsays I shouldn't have panicked, but then Bob had not been a toad underher harrow for two years. "

"I'm very glad you panicked, since it sent you straight into our arms, "said Norah. "If we had met you in an ordinary, stodgy way--you and Bobpresenting your letter of introduction, and we saying 'How do you do?'politely--it would have taken us ages to get to know you properly. And as it was, we jumped into being friends. You did look such a poor, hunted little soul as you came dodging across that street!"

"And you took me on trust, when, for all you know, the police might havebeen after me, " said Tommy. "Well, we won't forget; not that I supposeBob and I will ever be able to pay you back. "

"Good gracious, we don't want paying back!" exclaimed Norah, wrinklingher nose disgustedly. "Don't talk such utter nonsense, Tommy Rainham. And just hurry up and unpack, because tea will be ready at half-pastsix. "

"My goodness!" exclaimed the English girl, to whom dinner at half-pastseven was a custom of life not lightly to be altered. "And I haven'thalf unpacked, and oh, where is my blue frock? I don't believe I'vebrought it. " She sought despairingly in the trunk. 

"Yes, you have--I hung it up for you in the wardrobe ages ago, " saidNorah. "And it doesn't matter if you don't finish before tea. There'slots of time ahead. However, I certainly won't be dressed if I don'thurry, because I've to see Brownie first, and then sew on a button forJim. You'll find me next door when you're ready. " Tommy heard her go, singing downstairs, and she sighed happily. This, for the first time fortwo years, was a real home. 

The education of the new-chums began next morning, and was carried outthoroughly, since Mr. Linton did not believe in showing their immigrantsonly the pleasanter side of Australian life. Bob was given a few days ofriding round the run, spying out the land, and learning something aboutcattle and their handling as he rode. Luckily for him, he was a goodhorseman. The stockmen, always on the alert to "pick holes" in anew-chum, had little fault to find with his easy seat and hands, andapproved of the way in which he waited for no one's help in saddling upor letting go his horse; a point which always tells with the man of thebush. 

"We've had thim on this run, " said Murty, "as wanted their horses ledgently up to thim, and then they climb into the saddle like a lady. And when they'd come home, all they'd be lookin' for 'ud be some one tocasht their reins to, the way they cud strowl off to their tay. Isn'tthat so, Mick?"

"Yairs, " said Mick. He was riding an unbroken three-year-old, and had notime for conversation. 

After a few days of "gentle exercise, " Bob found himself put on towork. He learned something of cutting out and mustering, both in clearedcountry and in scrub; helped bring home young cattle to brand, andstudied at first hand the peculiar evilness of a scrub cow whenseparated from her calf. They gave him jobs for himself, whichhe accomplished fairly well, aided by a stock horse of superhumanintelligence, which naturally knew far more of the work than its ridercould hope to do. Bob confided to Tommy that never had he felt socomplete a fool as when he rode forth for the first time to cut out abullock alone under the eyes of the experts. 

"Luckily, the old mare did all the work, " he said. "But I knew lessabout it than I did the first time I went up alone at the flyingschool!"

His teaching went on all the time. Mr. Linton and Jim were tireless inpointing out the points of cattle, and the variations in the value offeed on the different parts of the run, with all the details of bushlore; and the airman's eyes, trained to observe, and backed by keendesire to learn, picked up and retained knowledge quickly. Billabongwas, in the main, a cattle run, but Mr. Linton kept as well a flock ofhigh class sheep, with the usual small mob for killing for station use, and through these a certain amount of sheep knowledge was imparted tothe new-chum. To their surprise, for all his instructors were heart andsoul for cattle, Bob showed a distinct leaning towards mutton. 

"They're easier to understand, I think, " he said. "Possibly it's becausethey're not as intelligent as cattle, and I don't think I am, either!"

"Well, I know something about bullocks, but these woolly objects havealways been beyond me, " said Jim. "Necessary evils, but I can't standthem. I used to think there was nothing more hopeless than an old merinoewe, until I met a battery mule--he's a shade worse!"

"Wait till you've worked with a camel in a bad temper, Mr. Jim, " saidDave Boone darkly; he had put in a weary time in Egypt. "For downrightwickedness them snake-headed beggars is the fair limit!"

"Yes, I've heard so, " said Jim. "Anyhow, we haven't added mules andcamels to our worries in Victoria yet; sheep are bad enough for me. Norah says turkey hens are worse, and she's certainly tried both; thereisn't much about the run young Norah doesn't know. But you aren't goingto make a living out of turkeys. "

"No--Tommy can run them as a side line, " said Bob. "I fancy sheep willgive me all I want in the way of worry. "

"And you really think you'll go in for sheep, old man?" asked Jim withpity. 

Bob set his lips obstinately. 

"I don't think anything yet, " he said. "I don't know enough. Wait untilI've learned a bit more--if you're not sick of teaching such an idiot. "

"Yerra, ye're no ijit, " said Murty under his breath. 

Education developed as the weeks went on. Wally had gone to Queensland, to visit married brothers who were all the "people" he possessed; andJim, bereft of his chum, threw himself energetically into the trainingof the substitute. Bob learned to slaughter a bullock and kill asheep--being instructed that the job in winter was not a circumstance towhat it would be in summer, when flies would abound. He never pretendedto like this branch of learning, but stuck to it doggedly, since it wasexplained to him that the man who could not be his own butcher in thebush was apt to go hungry, and that not one hired hand in twenty couldbe trusted to kill. 

More to Bob's taste were the boundary riding expeditions made with Jimto the furthest corners of the run; taking a pack horse with tucker andblankets, and camping in ancient huts, of which the sole furniture wasrough sacking bunks, a big fireplace, and empty kerosene cases forseats and tables. It was unfortunate, from the point of view ofBob's instruction, that the frantic zeal of Murty and the men to haveeverything in order for "the Boss" had left no yard of the Billabongboundary unvisited not a month before. Still, winter gales were alwaysapt to bring down a tree or two across the wires, laying a few panelsflat; the creeks, too, were all in flood, and where a wire fence crossedone, floating brushwood often damaged the barrier, or a landslip ina water-worn bank might carry away a post. So Jim and his pupil foundenough occupation to make their trips worth while; and Bob learned tosink post holes, to ram a post home beyond the possibility of moving, and to strain a wire fence scientifically. He was not a novice with anaxe, though Jim's mighty chopping made him feel a child; still, when itwas necessary to cut away a fallen tree, he could do his share manfully. His hands blistered and grew horny callouses, even as his musclestoughened and his shoulders widened; and all the time the appeal of thewide, free country called to his heart and drew him closer and closer tohis new life. 

"But he's too comfortable, you know, " David Linton said to Jim onenight. "He's shaping as well as anyone could expect; but he won't alwayshave Billabong at his back. "

Jim nodded wisely. 

"I know, " he said. "Been thinking of that. If you can spare me for a bitwe'll go over and lend ourselves as handy men to old Joe Howard. "

His father whistled. 

"He'll make you toe the mark, " he said, laughing. "He won't have youthere as gentlemen boarders, you know. "

"Don't want him to, " said Jim. 

So it came about that early on Monday morning Jim and Bob fixed swagsmore or less scientifically to their saddles--Jim made his discipleunstrap his three times before he consented to pass it--and rode awayfrom Billabong, amidst derisive good wishes from Norah and Tommy, whokindly promised to feed them up on their return, prophesying that theywould certainly need it. They took a westerly direction across country, and after two or three hours' riding came upon a small farm nestling atthe foot of a low range of hills. 

"That's old Howard's, " Jim said. "And there's the old chap himself, fixing up his windmill. You wait a minute, Bob; I'll go over and seehim. "

He gave Bob his bridle, and went across a small paddock near the house. Howard, a hard-looking old man with a long, grey beard, was wrestlingwith a home-made windmill--a queer erection, mainly composed of roughspars with sails made from old wheat-sacks. He clambered to the groundas Jim approached, and greeted him civilly. 

"I thought you'd have forgotten me, Mr. Howard, " said Jim. 

"Too like your dad--an', anyhow, I know the horses, " was the laconicanswer. "So you're back. Like Australia better'n fightin'?"

"Rather!" said Jim. "Fighting's a poor game, I think, when you hardlyever see the other fellow. Want any hands, Mr. Howard?"

"No. " The old man shook his head. "They want too much money nowadays, an' they're too darned partickler about their tucker. Meat three timesa day, whether you've killed it or not. An' puddin'. Cock 'em up withpuddin'--a fat lot of it I ever saw where I was raised. An' off to thetownship on Saturday afternoon, an' lucky if they get back in time formilkin' nex' mornin'. No--the workin' man ain't what 'e was, an' the newkind'll make precious little of Australia!"

"That's about right, I'm afraid, " said Jim, listening sympathetically tothis oration. "Well, will you take me and my friend as hands for a fewweeks, Mr. Howard?"

"You!" The old man stared at him. "Ain't 'ad a quarrel with yer dad, 'ave yer? You take my tip, if yer 'ave--go back and make it up. Not manymen in this districk like yer dad. "

"I know that, jolly well, " said Jim, laughing. "No--but my friend'sa new-chum, and I want to show him something of work on a place likeyours. We've been breaking him in on Billabong, but he'll have to takea small place for himself, if he settles, and he'd better see what it'slike. "

The old man shook his head doubtfully. 

"English officer, I suppose?"

"Yes. "

"I dunno, " said Howard. "Too much of the fine gent about that sort, Mr. Jim. I dunno 'ow I'd get down to orderin' the pair of yous about. An' Iain't got no 'comodation for yous; an' the tucker's not what yous 'avebin used ter. "

"You needn't let any of that worry you, " said Jim cheerfully. "He isn'ta bit of a fine gent, really, and we'll tackle any job that's going. As for accommodation, we've brought our blankets, and, in case you wereshort of tucker, we've a big piece of corned beef and some bread. Iwish you'd try it, Mr. Howard; we don't want pay, and we'll do no end ofwork. Murty reckons you won't be sorry if you take on Captain Rainham. "

"Oh, Murty says that, does 'e?" asked the old man, visibly cheered. "Well, Murty ain't the man to barrack for a useless new-chum. "

"Great Scott, do you think I am?" demanded Jim, laughing. "Or myfather?"

"Yous cert'nly didn't ought to be, " agreed Howard. "All the same"--hepushed his hat back from his worried brow--"I dunno as I quite like it. If I take on a chap I like 'im to step quick an' lively when I tell himanything I want done; an' I don't make no guests of 'em either. They gotto do their own cookin', an' keep things clean an' tidy, too. "

"We'll take our share, " said Jim. "As for stepping quick and lively, we've both been trained to that pretty thoroughly during the last fewyears. If you're worse than some of the Sergeant-majors I met when I wastraining, I'll eat my hat. "

"I'm told they're 'ard, " said Howard. "Well, I s'pose I'd better takeyous on, though it's a queer day when the son of Linton of Billabongcomes askin' old Joe Howard for a job. But, I say"--and anguish againsettled on his brow--"wot am I to call yous? I can't order you about asMr. Jim. It wouldn't seem to come natural. "

"Oh, call us any old thing, " said Jim, laughing. 

The old man pondered. 

"Well, I'll call yous Major an' Captin, " he declared, at length. "That'll sound like a pair of workin' bullocks, an' I'll feel more at'ome. "

"Right-o, " said Jim, choking slightly. "Where shall we put our horses?"

"Put 'em in the little paddock over there, an' stick yer saddles in theshed, " said his employer. "An' then bring in yer beef, an' we'll 'ave abit o' dinner. I ain't killed for a fortnight. "

Then began for Bob Rainham one of the most strenuous fortnights of hisexistence. Once having agreed to employ them, old Joe speedily becamereconciled to the prospect of cheap labour, and worked his willingguests with a devouring energy. Before dawn had reddened the easternsky a shout of "Hi, Captin! Time the cow was in!" drove him from hisblankets, to search in the darkness of a scrub-covered paddock for acow, who apparently loved a game of hide-and-seek, and to drive her inand milk her by the fitful light of a hurricane lantern. Then came theusual round of morning duties; chopping wood, feeding pigs, cleaningout sheds and outhouses, before the one-time airman had time to think ofbreakfast. By the time he came in Howard and Jim had generally finishedand gone out--the old man took a sly delight in keeping "Major" awayfrom "Captin"--and after cooking his meal, it was his job to wash upand to clean out the kitchen, over which old Joe proved unexpectedlycritical. Then came a varied choice of tasks to tackle to while away theday. Sometimes he would be sent to scrub cutting, which he liked best, particularly as Jim was kept at it always; sometimes he slashed mightilyat a blackberry-infested paddock, where the brambles would have dauntedanyone less stout of heart--or less ignorant. Then came lessons inploughing on a dry hillside; he managed badly at first, and came in fora good deal of the rough side of old Joe's tongue before he learned tokeep to anything approaching a straight line. Ploughing, Bob reflected, was clearly an art which needed long apprenticeship before you learnedto appreciate it, and he developed a new comprehension and sympathy forthe ploughman described by Gray as "homeward plodding his weary way. " Healso wondered if Gray's ploughman had to milk and get his own tea afterhe got home. 

Other relaxations of the bush were open to him. Old Joe had a paddock, once a swamp, which he had drained; it was free of water, but aboundedin tussocks and sword grass which "Captin" was detailed to grub outwhenever no duty more pressing awaited him. And sword grass is afearsome vegetable, clinging of root and so tough of stem that, ifhandled unwarily, it can cut a finger almost to the bone; wherefore theunfortunate "Captin" hated it with a mighty hatred, and preferred anyother branch of his education. There were stones to pick up and pilein cairns; red stones, half buried in grass and tussocks, and weighinganything from a pound to half a hundredweight. He scarred his hands andbroke his fingernails to pieces over them, but, on the whole, consideredit not a bad employment, except when old Joe took it into his head toperch on the fence and spur him on to greater efforts by disparagingremarks about England. Whatever his work, there was never any certaintythat old Joe would not appear, to sit down, light his short, black pipe, and make caustic remarks about his methods or his country--or both. Bobtook it all with a grin. He was a cheerful soul. 

They used to meet for dinner--dinner consisting of corned beef andpotatoes until the corned beef ran out; then it became potatoes andbread and jam for some days, until Joe amazed them by saddling anancient grey mare and riding into Cunjee, returning with more cornedbeef--and more jam. He boiled the beef in a kerosene tin, and Bobthought he had never tasted anything better. Appetites did not needpampering on Howard's Farm. Work in the evening went on until there wasbarely light enough to get home and find the cow; it was generally quitedark by the time milking was finished, and Bob would come in with hisbucket to find Jim just in, and lighting the fire--"Major, " not beingthe milking hand, worked in the paddocks a little longer. Tea requiredlittle preparation, since the only menu that occurred to old Joe seemedto be bread and jam. Jim, being a masterful soul, occasionally took thematter into his own hands and, aided by Bob, made "flap-jacks" in thefrying-pan; they might have been indigestible for delicately-constitutedpeople, but at least they had the merit of being hot and comforting on abiting winter night. Old Joe growled under his breath at the "softness"of people who required "cocking up with fal-lals. " But he ate theflap-jacks. 

After tea the "hands" divided the duties of the evening; taking it inturn, one to wash up, while the other "set" bread. Joe's only bakingimplement was a camp-oven, which resembles a large saucepan on threelegs; it could hold just enough for a day's supply, so that it wasnecessary to set bread every night, and bake every morning. This woundedtheir employer, who never failed to tell them, with some bitterness, that when alone he had to bake only twice a week. However, he knew allthat there was to know about camp-oven baking, and taught them the artthoroughly, as well as that of making yeast from potatoes. "That's anextry, " he remarked thoughtfully, "but I won't charge yer for it, yous'avin' bin soldiers!"

With the bread set, and rising pleasantly before the fire, under a bitof old blanket, and the kitchen tidy, a period of rest ensued, when"Major" and "Captin" were free to draw up chairs--seated with greenhidewith the hair left on, and very comfortable--and smoke their pipes. Thiswas the only time of the day when old Joe unbent. At first silent, hewould presently shift his pipe to the corner of his mouth and spin themyarns of the early days, told with a queer, dry humour that kept hishearers in a simmer of laughter. It was always a matter of regret topoor "Captin" that he used to be the one to end the telling, since nostory on earth could keep him, after a while, from nodding off to sleep. He would drag himself away to his blankets in the next room, hearing, as sleep fully descended upon him, the droning voice still entertainingJim--whose powers of keeping awake seemed more than human!

Saturday brought no slackening of work. Whatever his previous hiredmen had done, old Joe was evidently determined that his present"parlour-boarders" should not abate their efforts, and even kept thema little later than usual in the paddocks, remarking that "ter-morrerbein' Sunday, yous might as well cut a bit more scrub. " The next morningbroke fine and clear, and he looked at them a little doubtfully afterbreakfast. 

"Well, there ain't no work doin' on Sunday, I reckon. I can manage theol' keow to-night, if yous want to go home. "

The guests looked at each other doubtfully. 

"What do you say, Bob? Shall we ride over?"

Bob pondered. 

"All one to me, o' course, " said Joe, getting up and stumping out. Hepaused at the door. "On'y if yous mean ter stick on 'ere a bit you'llfind comin' back a bit 'ard, onced yous see Billabong. "

"Just what I was thinking, " said Bob, as the old man disappeared. "I'm not going, Jim; I know jolly well I'd hate to come backafter--er--fleshpotting at your place. But look here, old chap--whydon't you go home and stay there? You've done quite enough of this, especially as you've no earthly need to do it at all. You go home, andI'll stay out my fortnight. "

"What, leave you here alone?" queried Jim. "Not much, Bobby. "

"But why not? I've Joseph, and we'd become bosom friends. And yourfather must think it ridiculous for you to be kept over here, slaving--"

"Don't you worry your old head about dad, " said Jim cheerfully. "It's aslack time, and he doesn't need me, and he's perfectly satisfied at mybeing here. Bless you, it's no harm for me to get a bit of this sort oflife. "

"You'll never have to do it. "

"No one can tell that, " said Jim. "The bottom has dropped out of landin other countries, and it may happen here. Besides, if you've got toemploy labour it's just as well to know from experience what's a fairthing to expect from a man as a day's work. For which reason, I havedesired our friend Joseph to take me off scrub-duty, which I feel I knowpretty well, and to detail me for assorted fatigues, like yours, nextweek. And anyhow, my son, having brought you to this savage place, I'mnot going to leave you. Finally, we couldn't go anywhere, because thisis the day that we must wash. "

"I have washed!" said Bob indignantly. 

"I didn't mean your person, Bobby, but your clothes. The laundressdoesn't call out here. "

"Oh!" said Bob, and grinned. "Then I'd better put on a kettle. "

So they washed, very cheerfully, taking turns in the one bucket, whichwas all Joe could offer as laundry equipment. He had an iron, but afterbrief consultation, "Major" and "Captin" decided that to iron workingshirts would be merely painting the lily. Old Joe watched them with atwinkle, saying nothing. But a spirit of festivity and magnificence musthave entered into him, for when the washermen went for a walk, afterdisposing their damp raiment upon bushes, he entered the kitchenhurriedly and dived for the flour-bag; and later, they found unwontedadditions to the corned beef and potatoes--the said additions being noless than boiled onions and a jam tart. 

The week that followed was a repetition of the first, save for a day ofsuch rain that even old Joe had to admit that work in the paddocks wasout of the question. He consoled himself by making them whitewash thekitchen. Large masses of soot fell down into the fireplace throughoutthe day, seriously interfering with cooking operations, which suggestedto Joe that "Captin" might acquire yet another art--that of bush chimneysweeping--which he accomplished next day, under direction, by the simpleprocess of tugging a great bunch of tea-tree up and down the flue. "Better'n all them brushes they 'ave in towns, " said Joe, watching hisblackened assistant with satisfaction. 

"Well, we're off to-morrow, Mr. Howard, " said Jim on Saturday night. They were seated round the fire, smoking. 

"I s'pose so. Didn't think yous'd stick it out as long, " the old mansaid. 

"We've had a very good time, " said Bob; and was astonished to findhimself speaking truthfully. "Jolly good of you to have me; I know anew-chum isn't much use. "

"Well, I wouldn't say as how you weren't, " said old Joe deliberately. "I ain't strong on new-chums, meself--some of them immy-grants they sendout are a fair cow to handle; but I will say, Captin, you ain't got nofrills, nor you don't mind puttin' your back into a job. I worked youpretty 'ard, too. " He chuckled deeply. 

"Did you?" asked Bob--and chuckled in his turn. 

"Well, I didn't see no points in spoon-feedin' you. If a man's goin' onthe land he may as well know wot 'e's likely to strike. There's lots'lltell you you won't strike anythink 'arder than ol' Joe--an' p'raps youwon't, " he added. "Any'ow, yous asked fer work, an' it was up ter me tersee that yous got it. But don't go imaginin' you've learned all there ister know about farmin' yet. "

"If there's one thing I'm certain of, it's that, " said Bob a triflegrimly. 

"That's right. I ain't got much of a farm, an' any'ow, it's winter. Ion'y showed yous a few of the odd jobs--an' wot it is to 'ave to batchfer yerself, not comin' in like a lord to Billabong ter see wot Mrs. Brown's been cookin' for yous. Nothin' like a bit o' batchin' ter teacha cove. An' you mind, Captin--if you start anywhere on yer own, youbatch decent; keep things clean an' don't get into the way o' livin'just any'ow. I ain't much, nor the meenoo ain't excitin'; but things isclean. "

"Well--I have a sister, " said Bob. "So I'm in luck. But I guess I know abit more about her side of the job now. "

"And that's no bad thing for Tommy, " said Jim. 

"Oo's 'e?" demanded Joe. 

"Oh--that's his sister. "

"Rum names gals gets nowadays, " said Joe, pondering. "Not on'y gels, neither. 'S a chap on top of the 'ill 'as a new baby, an' 'e's called it'Aig Wipers Jellicoe. 'Course, 'e did go to the war, but 'e ain't gotno need ter rub it into the poor kid like that. " He paused to ram thetobacco into the bowl of his pipe with a horny thumb. "One thing--I'dlike to pay you chaps somethin'. Never 'ad blokes workin' fer me fernothin', an' I don't much care about it. "

"No, thanks, Mr. Howard, " said Jim. "We came for colonial experience. "

"You!" said old Joe, and permitted himself the ghost of a grin. "Well, I ain't goin' ter fight yous about it, an' I'm not worryin' a mightylot about you, Major, 'cause your little bit o' country's ready made foryou. But Captin's different. We won't 'ave no fight about cash, Captin;but that last year's calf of the ol' keow's goin' ter be a pretty decentsteer, an' when you gets yer farm 'e's goin' on it as yer first bit o'stock. An' 'e'll get the best o' my grass till 'e goes. "

"Rubbish!" said Bob, much embarrassed. "Awfully good of you, Mr. Howard, but that wasn't the agreement. I know I'm not worth wages yet. "

"Oh, ain't you?" Joe asked. "Well, there's two opinions about that. Any'ow, 'e's yours, an' I've christened 'im Captin, so there ain'tno way out of it. " He rose, cutting short further protests. "Too muchbloomin' argument about this camp; I'm off ter bed. "

CHAPTER XII

ON INFLUENZA AND FURNITURE

"So you think he'll do, Jim?"

"Yes, I certainly do, " Jim answered. He was sitting with his father inthe smoking-room at Billabong, his long legs outstretched before thefire, and his great form half-concealed in the depths of an enormousleather armchair. "Of course he'll want guidance; you couldn't expecthim to know much about stock yet, though he's certainly picked up a goodbit. "

"Yes--so it seems. His great point is his quick eye and his keenness. Ihaven't found him forget much. "

"No, and he's awfully ashamed if he does. He's a tiger for work, andvery quick at picking up the way to tackle any new job. That was oneof the things that pleased old Joe about him. I fancy the old chap hadsuffered at the hands of other new-chums who reckoned they couldteach him how to do his work. 'Captin ain't orffered me not one bit ofadvice, ' he told me with relief. "

Mr. Linton laughed. 

"Yes, I've had them here like that, " he said. "Full of sublimeenthusiasm for reforming Australia and all her ways. I don't saywe don't need it, either, but not from a new-chum in his first fiveminutes. "

"Not much, " agreed Jim. "Well, there's nothing of that sort about oldBob. He just hoes in at anything that's going, and doesn't talk aboutit. Joe says he must have been reared sensible. He's all right, dad. I've had a lot of men through my hands in the last few years, and youlearn to size 'em up pretty quickly. "

David Linton nodded, looking at his big son. Sometimes he had a pang ofregret for Jim's lost boyhood, swallowed up in war. Then, when he wasprivileged to behold him rough-and-tumbling with Wally, singing idioticchoruses with Norah and Tommy, or making himself into what little BabsArchdale ecstatically called "my bucking donkey, " it was borne in uponhim that there still was plenty of the boy left in Jim--and that therealways would be. Nevertheless, he had great confidence in his judgment;and in this instance it happened to coincide with his own. 

The door opened, and Bob Rainham came in, hesitating as he caught sightof the father and son. 

"Come in, Bob, " Mr. Linton said. "I was just wishing you would turn up. We've been talking about you. I understand you've made up your mind toget a place of your own. "

"If you don't think I'm insane to tackle it, sir, " Bob answered. "Ofcourse, I know I'm awfully ignorant. But I thought I could probably gethold of a good man, and if I can find a place anywhere in this district, Jim says he'll keep an eye on me. Between the two, I oughtn't to makevery hopeless mistakes. And I might as well have my money invested. "

"Quite so. I think you're wise, " the squatter answered. "As it happens, I was in Cunjee yesterday, talking to an agent, and I heard of a littleplace that might suit you very well--just about the price you ought topay, and the land's not bad. There's a decent cottage on it--you andTommy could be very comfortable there. It's four miles from here, so weshould feel you hadn't got away from us. "

"That sounds jolly, " said Bob. "I'd be awfully glad to think Tommy wasso near to Norah. Is it sheep country, Mr. Linton?"

"So it's to be sheep, is it? Well, I'd advise you to put some youngcattle on to some scrub country at the back, but you could certainlyrun sheep on the cleared paddocks, " Mr. Linton answered. "We could driveover and look at it to-morrow, if you like. The terms are easy; you'dhave money over to stock it, or nearly so. And there's plenty to be donein improving the place, if you should buy it; you could easily add agood deal to its value. "

"That's what I'd like, " Bob answered eagerly. "It doesn't take a wholelot of brains to dig drains and cut scrub. I could be doing that whilethe sheep turn into wool and mutton!"

"So you could; though there's a bit more to be done to sheep than justto watch them turn, " said the squatter, with a twinkle. "I fancy Tommywill be pleased if you get this place. "

"Tommy's mad keen to start, " Bob said. "She says Norah has taught hermore than she ever dreamed that her head could contain, and she wantsto work it all off on me. I think she has visions of making me kill abullock, so that she can demonstrate all she knows about corning andspicing and salting beef. I mentioned it would take two of us quite alittle while to work through a whole bullock, but she evidently didn'tthink much of the objection. "

"I'll see you get none fat enough to kill, " grinned Jim. "Norah saysTommy's a great pupil, dad. "

"Oh, they have worked as if they were possessed, " Mr. Linton answered. "I never saw such painfully busy people. But Norah tells me she hashad very little to teach Tommy--in fact, I think the teaching has beenmutual, and they've simply swapped French and Australian dodges. At allevents they and Brownie have lived in each other's pockets, and they allseem very content. "

"Are you all talking business, or may we come in?" demanded a cheeryvoice; and Norah peeped in, with Tommy dimly visible in the background. 

"Come in--'twas yourselves we were talking about, " Jim said, risingslowly from the armchair; a process which, Norah was accustomed to say, he accomplished yard by yard. "Sit here, Tommy, and let's hear yourviews on Australia!"

Tommy shook her head. 

"Too soon to ask me--and I've only seen Billabong, " she said, laughing. "Wait until I've kept house for Bob for a while, and faced life withoutnice soft buffers like Norah and Mrs. Brown!"

"I'm not a nice soft buffer!" said Norah indignantly. "Do I look likeone, Jimmy?"

"Brownie certainly fits the description better, " Jim said. "Never mind, old girl, you'll probably grow into one. We'd be awfully proud of you ifyou got really fat, Norah. "

"Then I hope you'll never have cause for pride, " retorted his sister. "I couldn't ride Bosun if I did, and that would be too awful to thinkabout. Oh, and Tommy's making a great stock-rider, Bob. She declared shecould never ride astride, but she's perceiving the error of her ways. "

"I thought I could never stick on without the moral support of thepommels, " said Tommy. "When you arrange yourself among pommels and hornsand things on a side-saddle, there seems no real reason why you shouldever come off, except of your own free will. But a man's saddle doesn'toffer any encouragement to a poor scared new-chum. I pictured myselfsliding off it whenever the horse side-stepped. However, somehow, itdoesn't happen. "

"And what happens when your steed slews around after a bullock?" askedJim. 

"Indeed, I hardly know, " said Tommy modestly. "I generally shut my eyes, and hold on to the front of the saddle. After a while I open them, and find, to my astonishment, that nothing has occurred, and I'm stillthere. Then we sail along after Norah, and I hold up my head proudly andlook as if that were really the way I have always handled cattle. Andshe isn't a bit taken in. It's dreadfully difficult to impress Norah. "

Every one laughed, and looked at the new-chum affectionately. This smallEnglish girl, so ready to laugh at her own mistakes, had twined herselfwonderfully about their hearts. Even Brownie, jealous to the point ofprickliness for her adored Norah, and at first inclined to turn up ascornful nose at "Miss Tommy's" pink and white daintiness, had beenforced to admit that she "could 'andle things like a workman. " And thatwas high praise from Brownie. 

The telephone bell whirred in the hall, and Jim went out to answer it. In a few minutes they heard his voice. 

"Norah, just come here a moment. " He came back presently, leaving Norahat the telephone. 

"It's Dr. Anderson, " he said. "They're in trouble in Cunjee--there's apretty bad outbreak of influenza. Some returned men came up with it, and now it's spreading everywhere, Anderson says. Mrs. Anderson has beennursing in the hospital, but now two of her own kiddies have got it, soshe has had to go home, and they're awfully shorthanded. Nurses seem tobe scarce everywhere; they could only get one from Melbourne, and she'sbadly overworked. "

"Norah will go, I suppose, " said David Linton, with a half-sigh--thesigh of a man who has looked forward to peace and security, and finds itagain slipping from his grasp. 

"Oh, yes, I'm sure she will. They have a certain number of volunteers, not nearly enough. "

"I'm going, " said Tommy, and David Linton nodded at her kindly. 

"What about you and me, Jim?" Bob asked. 

"Well, Anderson says they have a number of men volunteers. Such a lot ofreturned fellows about with nothing to do yet. I told him to count on usfor anything he wanted, but the need seems chiefly for women. "

"Must they go to-night? It's pretty late, " said Mr. Linton. 

"No, not to-night, " Norah answered, entering. "It would be eight o'clockbefore I could get in, and Dr. Anderson says I'm to get a good sleep andcome in early in the morning. Tommy, darling, will you mind if I leaveyou for a few days?"

"Horribly, " said Tommy drily. "It would be unpardonably rude for ahostess. So I 'm coming too. "

Norah laughed down at her. 

"Somehow, I thought you would, " she said. "Well, Jimmy, you'll take usin after breakfast, won't you? We'll have it early. " She perched on thearm of her father's chair, letting her fingers rest for a moment onhis close-cropped grey hair. "And I've never asked you if I could go, daddy. "

"No, " said David Linton; "you haven't. " He put his arm gently round her. 

"But then I knew that you'd kick me out if I didn't. So that simplifiesmatters. You'll take care of yourself while I'm away, won't you, dad? Nowild rides by yourself into the ranges, or anything of that sort?"

"Certainly not, " said her father. "I'll sit quietly at home, and letBrownie give me nourishment at short intervals. "

"Nothing she'd like better. " Norah laughed. "I don't believe Browniewill really feel that she owns us again until one of us is considerateenough to fall ill and give her a real chance of nursing and feeding us. Then the only thing to do is to forget you ever had a will of yourown, and just to open your mouth and be fed like a young magpie, andBrownie's perfectly happy. "

"She won't be happy when she hears of this new plan, " Mr. Linton said. "Poor old soul, I'm sorry she should have any worry, when she has justgot you home. "

"Yes; I'm sorry, " Norah answered. "But it can't be helped. I'll go andtalk to her now, and arrange things--early breakfast among them. "

"You might make it a shade earlier than you meant to, while you're atit, Nor, " Jim observed. "Then we could turn off the track as we go into-morrow to let Tommy have a look at the place that has been offeredBob--you know that place of Henderson's, off the main road. Bob can goover the land with us when we're coming back. But once you and Tommy getswallowed up in Cunjee, there's no knowing when we could get you out;and Tommy ought to inspect the house. "

"Oh, I'd love to, " said Tommy enthusiastically. "No mere man can betrusted to buy a house. "

"Don't go to look at it with any large ideas of up-to-date improvementsfloating in your mind, " Jim warned her. "It's sure to be prettyprimitive, and probably there isn't even a bathroom. "

"Don't you worry, Tommy; we'll build you one, " said Mr. Linton. 

"I'm not going to worry about anything; there are always washtubs, "spoke Tommy cheerfully--"and thank you, all the same, Mr. Linton. Ididn't expect much when I came out to Australia, but I'm getting so muchmore than I expected that I'm in a state of bewilderment all the time. Someday I feel that I shall come down with a bump, and I shall bethankful if it's only over a bathroom. "

"Distressing picture of the valiant pioneer looking for discomforts andfailing to find them, " said Bob, laughing. "It's so difficult to feelreally pioneerish in a place where there are taps, and electriclight, and motors, and no one appears to wear a red shirt, like everyAustralian bushman I ever saw on the stage. "

"Did you bring any out with you?" demanded Norah wickedly. 

"I didn't. But honest, it was only because I had so many khaki ones, andI thought they'd do. Otherwise I'd certainly have thought that scarletshirts were part of the ordinary outfit for the Colonies. And if youbelieved all the things they tell you in outfitting shops, you wouldbring a gorgeous assortment. We'd have even arrived here with tinware. It was lucky I knew some Australians--they delicately hinted that youreally had a shop or two in the principal cities. "

"I've often marvelled at the queer collection people seem to bring out, "said Mr. Linton. "It's not so bad of late years, but ten years ago ajackeroo would arrive here with about a lorry-load of stuff, most ofwhich he could have bought much more cheaply in Melbourne or Sydney--andhe'd certainly never use the greater part of it. Apparently a Londonshop will sell you the same kind of outfit for a Melbourne suburb asif you were going into the wilds of West Africa. They haven't anyconscience. "

"They just never learn geography, " said Norah. "And 'the Colonies' tothem mean exactly the same thing, no matter in what continent the colonymay be. If they can sell pioneers tinware to take out to Melbourne, somuch the better for them. Well, I must see Brownie, or there may not beearly breakfast for pioneers or any one else. "

Brownie rose to the occasion--there had never been any known occasionto which Brownie did not rise--and the hospital at Cunjee was stillgrappling with early morning problems next day when the Billabong motorpulled up at the door, after a flying visit to the new home--whichTommy, regarding with the large eye of faith, had declared to be full ofboundless possibilities. Dr. Anderson came out to meet the new-comers, Norah and Tommy, neat and workmanlike; Jim, bearing their luggage; andMr. Linton and Bob sharing a large humper, into which Brownie had packedeverything eatable she could find--and Brownie's capacity for findingthings eatable at short notice was one of her most astonishing traits. The little doctor, harassed as he was, greeted them with a twinkle. 

"You Lintons generally appear bearing your sheaves with you, " he said. "Well, you're very welcome. How many of you do I keep?"

"Tommy and Norah, for certain, " said Mr. Linton. "And as many more of usas you please. Want us all, doctor?"

"Well, I really don't; there are a good many men volunteers. But ifI might commandeer the car and a driver for a few hours, I should beglad, " the doctor went on. "There are some cases to be brought infrom Mardale and Clinthorpe. I heard of them only this morning, on thetelephone, and I was wondering how to get them in. "

"We're at your disposal, and you've only to telephone for us or the carwhenever you want it, " said Mr. Linton. "How are things this morning?"

"Oh--bad enough. We have several very troublesome cases; people simplywon't give in soon enough. My youngsters are very ill, but I'm notreally worried about them as long as my wife keeps up. Our biggesttrouble is that our cook here went down this morning. She told me shecouldn't sleep a wink all night, and when she woke up in the morningher tongue was sticking to the roof of her head!--and certainly she hastemperature enough for any strange symptoms. But we feel rather as ifthe bottom had dropped out of the universe, for none of our volunteersare equal to the job. "

"I can cook, " said Norah and Tommy together. 

"Can you?" said the little doctor, staring at them as though the heavenshad opened and rained down angels on his head. "Are you sure? You don'tlook like it!"

"I can guarantee them, " said Mr. Linton, laughing. "Only you'll have towatch Norah, for the spell of the war is heavy upon her, and she'll boilyour soup bones thirteen times, and feed you all on haricot beans andlentils if nobody checks her!"

"Dad, you haven't any manners, " said Norah severely. "May I cook, Doctor?"

"You can share the job, " said Dr. Anderson thankfully. "I really thinkit's more than enough for one of you. This place is getting pretty full. Of course, I've wired to town for a cook, but goodness knows if we'llget one; it's unlikely. Come on, now, and I'll introduce you to Sister. "

Sister proved to be a tall, capable, quiet woman, with war decorations. She greeted the volunteers thankfully, and unhesitatingly pronouncedtheir place to be cooks, rather than nurses. 

"I can get girls who will do well enough in the wards, " she said, "whereI can direct them. But I can't be in the kitchen too. If you two cancarry on without supervision it will be a godsend. "

So the kitchen swallowed up Norah and Tommy, and there they workedduring the weeks that followed, while the influenza scourge ragedround Victoria. The little cottage-hospital became full almost tobursting-point. Even the rooms for the staff had to be appropriated, andnurses and helpers slept in a cottage close by. Luckily for the cooks, Cunjee now boasted a gas supply and its citizens supplied them withgas-stoves, as Norah said, "in clutches, " so that they worked incomfort. It was hard work, with little time to spare, but the girls hadlearned method, and they soon mapped out a routine that prevented theirever being rushed or flurried. And they blessed the cold weather thatsaved constant watching lest supplies should go bad. 

From Billabong came daily hampers that greatly relieved their labours. It was a matter of some amazement to the Lintons that Brownie did notvolunteer for the hospital, and indeed, it had been the first thought ofBrownie herself. But she repressed it firmly, though by no means feelingcomfortable. To Murty she confided her views, and was relieved by hisapproval. 

"I know I did ought to go, " she said, almost tearfully. "There's thosetwo blessed lambs in the kitchen, doing wot I'd ought to be doing; andI know Mrs. Archdale 'ud come up an' run things 'ere for me. But wot 'ud'appen if I did go, I ask you, Murty? Simply they'd take the two blessedlambs out of the kitchen an' put 'em to nursing in the wards, an' nextthing you knew they'd both be down with the beastly flu' themselves. They're safer among the pots and pans, Murty. But when the master looksat me I don't feel comferable. "

"Yerra, let him look, " said Murty stoutly. "'Tis the great head ye haveon ye; I'd never have thought of it. Don't go worryin', now. Are ye notsendin' them in the heighth of good livin' every day?"

"That's the least I can do, " said Brownie, brightening a little. "OnlyI'd like to think Miss Norah and Miss Tommy got some of it, and not justthem patients, gethered up from goodness knows where. "

"Yerra, Miss Norah wouldn't want to know their addresses before she'dfeed 'em, " said the bewildered Murty. But there came a suspicious smellfrom the kitchen, as of something burning, and Mrs. Brown fled with aswiftness that was surprising, considering her circumference. 

Jim lived a moving existence in those days, flying between Billabongand Cunjee in the car, bringing supplies, always on hand for a job ifwanted, and insisting that on their daily "time off" Norah and Tommyshould come out for a spin into the country. Sometimes they managed totake Sister, too, or some of the other helpers. The car never went outwith any empty seats. Presently they were recovering patients to begiven fresh air or taken home; white-faced mothers, longing to be backto the house and children left in the care of "dad, " and whatever kindlyneighbours might drop in; or "dads" themselves, much bewildered at theamazing illness that had left them feeling as if neither their legs northeir heads belonged to them. Occasionally, after dropping one of theseconvalescents, Jim would find jobs waiting to his hand about the bushhomestead; cows to milk, a fence to be mended, wood waiting to bechopped. He used to do them vigorously, while in the house "mum" fussedover her restored man and tried to keep him from going out to run thefarm immediately. There were generally two or three astonished childrento show him where tools were kept--milk buckets, being always up-endedon a fence post, needed no introduction, and the pump, for a sluiceafterwards, was not hard of discovery. The big Rolls-Royce used to purrgently away through the bush paddock afterwards, often with a bewildered"mum" looking amazedly at the tall young man who drove it. 

Meanwhile Bob Rainham, left alone with his host, set about the businessof his new farm in earnest, since there seemed nothing else for him todo; and David Linton, possibly glad of the occupation, threw himselfinto the work. The farm was bought on terms that seemed to Bobvery easy--he did not know that Mr. Linton stood security for hispayments--and then began the task of stocking it and of planning justwhat was best to do with each paddock. The house, left bare and clean bythe last owners, was in good repair, save that the dingy white paintingof the exterior, and the varnished pine walls and ceilings within weredepressing and shabby. Mr. Linton decided that his house-warming presentto Tommy should be a coat of paint for her mansion, and soon it lookednew--dark red, with a gleaming white roof, while the rooms were paintedin pretty fresh colours. "Won't Tommy get a shock!" chuckled Bobgleefully. The dinginess of the house had not escaped him on themorning that they had made their first inspection, but Tommy, who lovedfreshness and colours, had made no sign. Had you probed the matter, Tommy would probably have remarked, with some annoyance, that it was nother job to begin by grumbling. 

Wally came hurtling back from Queensland at the first hint of theinfluenza outbreak, and was considerably depressed at finding his twinsouls, Jim and Norah, engaged in jobs that for once he could not share. Therefore he, too, fell back on the new farm, and found Bob knitting hisbrow one evening over the question of furniture. 

"I don't want to buy much, " he said. "Tommy doesn't, either; we talkedit over. We'd rather do with next to nothing, and buy decent stuff bydegrees if we get on well. Tommy says she doesn't want footling littlegimcracky tables and whatnots and things, nor dressing-tables full ofdrawers that won't pull out. But I've been looking at the cheap stuff inCunjee, and, my word, it's nasty! Still, I can't afford good things now, and Tommy wouldn't like it if I tried to get 'em. Tommy's death on thesimple life. "

"How are you on tools?" queried Wally. 

"Using tools? Pretty fair, " admitted Bob. "I took up carpentering atschool; it was always a bit of a hobby of mine. I'm no cabinet-maker, ifthat's what you mean. "

"You don't need to be, " Wally answered. "Up where I come from--we werepretty far back in Queensland--we hardly ever saw real furniture, thestuff you buy in shops. It was all made out of packing-cases and oddbits of wood. Jolly decent, too; you paint 'em up to match the rooms, orstain 'em dark colours, and the girls put sort of petticoats round someof the things. "

"We began that way, " said David Linton, with a half-sigh. "There wassurprisingly little proper furniture in our first house, and we werevery comfortable. "

"Couldn't we begin, sir?" asked Wally eagerly. "This wet weather lookslike setting in. Bob can't do much on the farm. If we could get outa few odd lengths of timber and some old packing cases from thetownship--"

"Heavens, you don't need to do that!" exclaimed their host. "The placeis full of both; packing-cases have been arriving at Billabong since Jimwas a baby, and very few of them have gone away again. There's plenty oftimber knocking about, too. We'll go over to the farm if you like, Bob, and plan out measurements. "

"I think it's a splendid idea, thanks, sir, " said Bob slowly. "Only Idon't quite see why I should bother you--"

"Oh, don't talk rubbish!" said David Linton, getting up. "I believe I'mglad of the job--the place seems queer without Jim and Norah. "

"My word!" said Wally. "Let's all turn carpenters, and give Tommy thesurprise of her life!"

They flung themselves at the work with energy. A visit to the new house, and a careful study of each room, revealed unsuspected possibilities toBob, whose English brain, "brought up, " as Wally said, "on a stodgydiet of bedroom suites, " had failed to grasp what might be done by handypeople with a soul above mere fashion in the matter of furniture. Theycame back with a notebook bulging with measurements and heads seethingwith ideas. First, they dealt with the bedrooms, and made for each a setof long shelves and a dressing-table-cupboard--the latter a noble pieceof furniture, which was merely a packing-case, smoothed, planed andfitted with shelves; the whole to be completed with a seemly petticoatwhen Tommy should be able to detach her mind from influenza patients. They made her, too, a little work-table, which was simply a wide, lowshelf, at which she could write or sew--planned to catch a good lightfrom her window, so that as she sat near it, she could see the line ofwillows that marked the creek and the rolling plains that ended in theranges behind Billabong. Tommy's room was painted in pale green; andwhen they had stained all these exciting additions dark green, Bobheaved a great sigh, and yearned audibly for the swift recovery ofthe influenza patients, so that Tommy could return and behold her newpossessions. 

"We could make washstands, " said Mr. Linton, when they had fitted outthe two remaining bedrooms. "But washstands are depressing things, andwould take up a good deal of space in these little rooms. You have agood water supply, Bob; why not have built-in basins with taps, and layon water through the bedrooms?"

Bob whistled. 

"My aunt! Is that really possible?"

"Quite, I should say. It wouldn't take elaborate plumbing, and the pipescould discharge into an irrigation drain for your vegetable garden. Itwould save Tommy ever so much work in carrying water, too. There's afearsome amount of water carried in and out of bedrooms, and I can't seewhy pipes shouldn't do the work. It need not cost you much--just a shelfacross a corner, with an enamelled basin let in. "

"Save you buying jugs and basins, " said Wally. "Great money-savingidea!"

"Rather, " said Bob. "Is there anyone in Cunjee who can plumb?"

"Oh, yes; there's a handy man who can do the whole thing. We'll get Jimto go and see him tomorrow. "

They left this job to the handy man, who proved equal to all demands, and went on themselves to higher flights. Kitchen and pantry werealready fitted with shelves, but they built in a dresser, and found aspare corner, where they erected a linen press warranted to bring tearsof joy to the eye of any housewife. Round the little dining-room andsitting-room they ran a very narrow shelf, just wide enough to carryflowers and ornaments, and they made wide, low window seats in eachroom. Then, becoming bold by success, they turned to cabinet making, and built into the dining-room a sideboard, which was only a glorifiededition of the kitchen dresser, but looked amazingly like walnut, aidedby a little stain; and for both sitting-rooms made low cupboards, with tops wide enough to serve as little tables. Even the verandah wasfurnished with wide shelf tables and a cupboard, and with low and broadseats. 

"And it's all done by kindness--and packing cases!" said Jim, surveyingthe result with admiration. 

"Indeed, I'm afraid a lot of your father's good timber has gone intoit, " said Bob half ruefully. "He was awfully good about it, and thesupply of just-what-you-want timber on Billabong seemed inexhaustible. "

"No, you really used very little good stuff, " David Linton said. "It'schiefly packing cases, truly, Jim. But we had plenty of time to plane itup and make it look decent. Bob ran an electric light into the workshopand we worked every night. I believe it's kept us from getting influenzafrom sheer boredom, with all you people away. "

"They'll soon be home, " Jim said cheerfully. "Influenza's dying out, Ibelieve. No fresh cases for three days, and all the patients are gettingbetter. The little Andersons are up and about. By the way, Dad, couldn'twe bring those kiddies out to Billabong for a change?"

"Why, of course, " his father answered. "Tell Mrs. Anderson to come too, or, if she won't leave her husband, Brownie will be delighted at thechance of getting two children to look after again. Are the cooks quitecheery, Jim?"

"As cheery as possible, " Jim answered. "They got off early to-day, and Itook them and Sister and the Anderson youngsters out for a run. Did 'emall good. I'm coming home to-night, and they don't want me to-morrow, because they're going to afternoon tea with some one or other. Flightyyoung things, those cooks! So I can help you carpenters or do any oddjobs. "

"We've lots, " said Wally, who was putting a finishing coat of dark greenenamel to a rod destined as a towel rail for Tommy's room. "Simple jobs, suitable for your understanding. Take care, Jimmy, I've a wet paintbrush, and you have a good suit on! I want to put shelves from floor toceiling of the bathroom, because the walls are rough and unlined, andnothing on earth will make it a beautiful room. So Tommy may as wellstore there all the things she doesn't want anywhere else. And you canmake her a medicine cupboard. I shan't have time to look at any of youunskilled labourers, for I'm going to build her a draining-rack forplates and things over the kitchen sink. And I can tell you, that takesbrains!"

"Then it's not your job!" said Jim definitely. 

"Isn't it? I'll show you, you old Bond Street fashion plate!" Wallystretched his long form, simply attired in a khaki shirt and dungareetrousers, much be-splashed by paint, and looked scornfully at his neatlydressed friend. "You needn't think, because you come here dressed likethe lilies of the field and fresh from motoring girls round the country, that--"

"My hat!" said Jim justly incensed. "And I after cleaning out andwhitewashing the hospital fowl-houses all the morning! Young Wally, youneed some one to sit on your head. " He took off his coat slowly. 

"Ten to one, " said Wally hastily, "if we had time to look into thematter we'd find you'd whitewashed the fowls as well! These ArmyJohnnies are so beastly impractical!" He gathered up his brushes andfled, pursued by his chum. Sounds of warfare came faintly from thedistance. 

"It's a good thing some of us are sane, " said Mr. Linton laughing. "Nearly finished, Bob?"

He was painting a shelf-table, screwed to the wall within a space atthe end of the verandah, which they had completely enclosed with wiremosquito netting. Bob was hanging the door of this open-air room inposition, a task requiring judgment, as the floor of the verandah wasold and uneven. 

"Nearly, sir, " he mumbled, his utterance made difficult by the factof having several screws in his mouth. He worked vigorously for a fewmoments, and then stood back to survey his job. "This is going to bea great little room--though it's hard just now to imagine that it willever be warm enough for it. "

"Just you wait a few months until we get a touch of hot weather, andthe mosquitoes come out!" said David Linton. "Then you and Tommy willthankfully entrench yourselves in here at dusk, and listen to thesinging hordes dashing themselves against the netting in the effort toget at you!"

"That's the kind of thing they used to tell me on the Nauru, " Bob saidlaughing; "but I didn't quite expect it from you, Mr. Linton!"

The squatter chuckled. 

"Well, indeed, it's no great exaggeration in some years, " he said. "Theycan be bad enough for anything, though it isn't always they are. But anopen-air room is never amiss, for if there aren't mosquitoes a lamp willattract myriads of other insects on a hot night. That looks all right, Bob; you've managed that door very well. "

"First rate!" said Jim and Wally approvingly, returning arm in arm. 

"You're great judges!" David Linton rejoined, looking at the pair. "Haveyou returned to work, may I ask, or are you still imitating the liliesof the field?"

"Jim is; he couldn't help it, " said Wally. "But I have been studyingthat oak tree out in the front, Mr. Linton. It seems to me that aseat built round it would be very comforting to weary bones on warmevenings--"

Bob gathered up his tools with decision in each movement. 

"Wally has come to that state of mind in which he can't look at anythingon the place without wanting to build something out of a packing casein it, or round it, or on top of it!" he said. "When the sheep come I'llhave to keep you from them, or you'll be building shelves round them!"

"Why, you're nearly as bad yourself!" grinned Wally. 

"I know I am, and that's why I've got to stop. I'm going to leave nicelittle chisels and spokeshaves and smoothing planes, and mend up thepigsty; it needs it badly, and so does the cow-shed. And then I'vegot to think of ploughing, and cutting that drain across the flat, andgenerally earning my living. "

"Don't you worry, " said David Linton. "You couldn't have done muchoutside in this wet weather, and at least your house is half-furnished. And we'll help you through with the other things. "

"You're all just bricks, " said Bob, his fair skin flushing--"only Ibegin to feel as if I were fed with a spoon. I can't always expect tohave my work done for me. "

"You haven't shown much wish to leave it for anyone else, " Jim saiddrily. "Neither you nor Tommy strikes this district as a loafer. Juststop talking bosh, old man, and think what Tommy's going to say to hermansion. "

"Say?" queried Mr. Linton. "Why, she'll point out to us all the placeswhere she wants shelves!"

"Shelves?" yelled the three as one man. 

"Yes, certainly. There was never a woman born who had enough. Don't losesight of your tools, Bob, for you'll go on putting up shelves as longas you've an inch of wall to put them on. Come along, boys, and we'll gohome. "

CHAPTER XIII

THE HOME ON THE CREEK

"I think it's the loveliest home that ever was!" said Tommy solemnly. 

"Well, indeed, it takes some beating, " Wally agreed. 

"Creek Cottage"--the name was of Tommy's choosing--was ready foroccupation, and they had just finished a tour of it. There was nothingin it that was not fresh and bright and dainty--like Tommy herself. The rooms were small, but they had good windows, where the crisp, shortcurtains were not allowed to obscure the view. There were fresh mattingsand linoleums on the floors, and the home-made furniture now boasted, where necessary, curtains of chintz or cretonne, that matched itscolouring. Norah and Tommy had spent cheery hours over those draperies. The curtains for Tommy's "suite" had been Norah's gift--of dark-greenlinen, embroidered in dull blue silks; and in the corner there was alittle sofa with cushions of the same. Tommy had purred--was, in fact, still purring--over that home-made furniture, and declared it superiorto any that money could buy. She had also suggested new ideas forshelves. 

They had not troubled furniture shops much. Save for a few comfortablearm-chairs, there was nothing solid and heavy in the house; but it wasall pleasant and home-like, and the little rooms, bright with booksand pictures and flowers, had about them the touch of welcome andrestfulness that makes the difference between a home and a mere house. The kitchen was Tommy's especial pride--it was cool and spotless, withfresh-painted walls and ceilings, and shining white tiles round thewhite sink--over which Wally's draining-rack sat in glory. Dazzlingtin-ware decorated the walls, and the dresser held fresh and prettychina. For weeks it had been a point of honour for no one to visitCunjee without bringing Tommy a gift for the kitchen--meat fork, a setof skewers, a tin pepper castor; offerings wrapped in many coverings oftissue paper, and presented with great solemnity, generally at dinner. The last parcel had been from Mr. Linton, and had eclipsed all theothers--an alarum clock, warranted to drive the soundest sleeper fromher bed. Bob declared it specially designed to ensure his getting fed atsomething approaching a reasonable hour. 

A wide verandah ran round the whole house, and rush lounges and deckchairs stood about invitingly--Tommy had insisted that there shouldbe plenty of seating accommodation on the verandah for all the Lintonparty, since they filled the little rooms to an alarming extent. Near where they stood the drawing-room opened out by a French window. Something caught Tommy's eye, and she dived into the room--to return, laughing with new treasure-trove--a sink brush and saucepan-scrubber, tied up with blue ribbon. 

"Your doing?" she asked, brandishing them. 

"Not mine. " Wally shook his head. "I don't do frivolous things likethat. But I heard Jim wheedling blue ribbon out of Norah this morning, and I don't fancy he has much use for it ordinarily. You'd better askhim. "

"It's like both of you--you nice stupids!" she said. 

"What?--the pot-scrub! That's not polite of you, Miss Rainham; and sountrue, where I'm concerned. " Wally sat down on the arm of a lounge andregarded her with a twinkle. "What's old Bob doing?"

Tommy laughed happily. 

"I think whenever we don't know where Bob is, he's safe to be outlooking at either the sheep or the pigs, " she said. "He just loves them;and he says he can see them growing. "

There was a hint of Spring in the air, and more than a hint of goodgrass in the green paddocks stretching away from the house. By the creekthe willows were putting out long, tender shoots that would soon be athick curtain. The lucerne patch that stretched along its bank was denseand high. The Rainhams had been delayed in taking possession of CreekCottage; a severe cold had smitten Tommy just at the end of her laboursin the hospital, and, being thoroughly tired out, it had been some timebefore she could shake off its effects. Mr. Linton and Norah had putdown their feet with joint firmness, declaring that in no circumstancesshould she begin housekeeping until she was thoroughly fit; so theRainhams had remained at Billabong. Tommy was petted and nursed in away she had not known since Aunt Margaret had died, while Bob workedfeverishly at his farm, riding over every day from Billabong, with apackage of Brownie's sandwiches in his pocket, and returning atdusk, dirty and happy. Bob was responding to Australian conditionsdelightfully, and was only discontented because he could not make hisfarm all that he wanted it to be within the first week. 

Therein, however, he had unexpected help. The Cunjee district was afriendly one; station owners and farmers alike looked kindly onthe young immigrant who turned so readily to work after four years'fighting. Moreover, Tommy's work in the hospital was well known; thegeneral opinion being that "anything might be expected from youngNorah Linton, but you wouldn't think a bit of a new-chum kid like BobRainham's sister would turn to and cook for a crowd, and she hardly offthe ship!" So the district laid its heads together and consulted Mr. Linton; with the result that one morning Bob found himself unexpectedlyaccompanied to work by his host. It was nothing unusual for Jim orWally, or both, to go with him. He was cutting a drain, which theydeclared to be a job for which they had a particular fancy. But to-dayhe found Monarch saddled with the other horses, and Mr. Linton, not onlyready to start, but hurrying them off; and there was no lunch to carry, Norah airily declaring that since she and Tommy were to be desertedthey declined to be downtrodden, and would motor over with a hamper andpicnic at Creek Cottage. There was a mysterious twinkle in Norah's eye;Bob scented something afoot, and tried--in vain--to pump her on thematter. He rode away, his curiosity unsatisfied. 

But when they rode up the homestead paddock at his farm, he gave a longwhistle. 

"What on earth--?" he began amazedly. 

There were men in sight everywhere, and all working. Eight or nineploughs were moving across the paddocks destined for cultivation;already wide strips of freshly turned earth showed that they had beensome time at work. On the flat where Bob had begun his drain was a lineof men, and some teams with earth-scoops, cutting a deep channel. Therewere even men digging in the garden; and the sound of axes came faintlyfrom a belt of scrub that Bob was planning to clear--some day. He gapedat them. 

"What does it mean?"

"It's a bee, " said Wally kindly. "A busy bee, improving each shininghour. "

Bob turned a puzzled, half-distressed face to Mr. Linton. 

"I say, sir--what is it?"

"It's just that, my boy, " said David Linton. "The district had a fancyto help you--Cunjee thinks a heap of soldiers, you see. So a lot of thefellows got together and planned to put in a day on the creek, doing oddjobs. "

"I say, " said poor Bob flushing scarlet, "I never heard such athing--and I hardly know any of them. Whatever am I to say to them, sir?"

"I wouldn't say much at all, " said David Linton laughing. "You'll onlyembarrass them if you do. Just take a hand in any job you like, andcarry on--as we're all going to do. "

"There's one man you know, anyhow, " said Jim grinning. He pointed outold Joe Howard, the nearest to them among the ploughmen. 

"Heavens!" ejaculated Bob. "You don't mean to tell me old Joe has comeof his own accord!"

"Couldn't keep him away, " Jim said. "He remarked that you were a verydecent young feller, and he'd taught you how to work, so he might aswell lend an 'and. It's like old Joe's cheek, but he'll claim for everthat he made you a worker. "

"Oh, let him, " said Bob. "It doesn't hurt me, and it may amuse him. " Hisgaze travelled across the busy paddocks. "Well--I'm just staggered, " hesaid. "The least I can do is to get to work quickly. "

They turned the horses out and scattered; Bob to cutting scrub--it wasthe job he liked least, so it seemed to him the decent thing to tackleit--Jim to the drain construction, while Wally joined the band ofworkers in the garden, since he knew Tommy's plans concerning it; andMr. Linton attacked a fence that needed repairs. In the middle of themorning came the Billabong motor, driven by Norah, with Brownie and amaid in the tonneau with Tommy, and hampers packed wherever possible. Acart with other supplies had been driven over by Evans in the very earlymorning, since Billabong had undertaken the feeding of the workers forthe day. The Rolls-Royce picked its way delicately round the paddocks, while the girls carried drinks and huge slabs of cake to the differentbands of workers--this being the time for "smoke-oh. " Then they hurriedback to the cottage, where Brownie and Maria were busy unpacking hamperson the verandah, and Brownie was preparing to carve great joints of beefand mutton and pork in readiness for the hungry horde that would descendon them at dinner time. 

It was all ready when the men trooped up from the paddocks--squattersand stockmen, farmers, horse breakers, bush workers of every degree;all dirty and cheery, and filled with a mighty hunger. Soap and waterawaited them at the back; then they came round to sit on the edge of thelong verandahs, balancing heaped plates on their knees, and making shortwork of Brownie's provisions. Jokes and cheery talk filled the air. Tommy, carrying plates shyly at first, found herself the object of muchfriendly interest. "Little Miss Immigrant, " they called her, and viedwith each other in making her feel that they were all welcoming her. Butthey did not waste much time over dinner--soon one after another gotup and sauntered away, lighting his pipe, and presently there werestraggling lines of figures going back to work across the paddocks. After which Norah and Tommy bullied Bob into eating something--he hadbeen far too anxious to wait on his hungry "bee" to think of feedinghimself, and then the ladies of the party lunched with the ardour of thelong-delayed, and fell upon the colossal business of dish-washing. 

Afternoon tea came early, by which time nearly all the ploughing wasdone, and the brown ribbon of the new drain stretched, wide and deep, across the flat. The girls took the meal round the paddocks, this timewith Bob to carry the steaming billies of tea; it gave him a chance tothank his helpers, when it was difficult to say whether the thanker orthe thanked were the more embarrassed. Soon after "cow time" loomed forsome of the workers, and whatever waits in Australia, it must not bethe cow; so that here and there a man shouldered his tools, and, leavingthem at the shed, caught his horse and rode away--apologizing to Bob, ifhe happened to meet him, for going so early, with the brief apology ofthe dairy farmer, "Gotter get home an' milk. " But the majority worked onuntil dusk came down and put an end to their efforts, and then came upfor their horses, singing and laughing. 

Bob stood at the gate, bareheaded, as they rode away. By this time hehad no words at all. He wished from the bottom of his heart that hecould tell them what good fellows he thought them; but he could onlystand, holding the gate for them with Tommy by his side; and it maybe that the look on each tired young face moved "the bee" more thaneloquence would have done. They shouted cheery good-byes as they went. "Good luck, Miss Immigrant! Good luck, Captain!" And the dusk swallowedthem up, leaving only the sound of the cantering hoofs. 

Thanks to "the bee, " the little farm on the creek looked veryflourishing on the great day when the lady of the house came down instate to take possession of her domain. Bob had worked hard in thegarden, where already rows of vegetables showed well; Jim and Wally hadaided Norah and Tommy in the making of a flower garden, laying heavytoll on Hogg's stores for the purpose; to-day it was golden and whitewith daffodils and narcissi and snowdrops. The cultivation paddocks, nolonger brown, rippled with green oats; and cattle were grazing onthe rough grass of the flats, once a swamp, but already showing theinfluence of the big drain. Bob had great plans for ploughing all hisflats next year. Dairy cows pastured in the creek paddock near thehouse; beyond, Bob's beloved sheep were steadily engrossed in thefascinating pursuit of "turning into wool and mutton. " He never grewtired of watching the process. 

The ever-present problem of labour, too, had solved itself pleasantlyenough. Sarah, for many years housemaid at Billabong, had married aman on a farm near Cunjee, whose first attempt at renting a place forhimself had been brought to an untimely end by the drought; and Sarahhad returned to Billabong, to help in preparing for the home-coming ofthe long-absent family, while her husband secured a temporary job inCunjee and looked about for another chance. There Jim had found him, while helping at the hospital; the end of the matter being that Sarahand Bill and their baby were installed at Creek Cottage, Bill to begeneral utility man on the farm, and to have a share of profits, whileSarah helped Tommy in the house. Every one was satisfied, and alreadythere were indications that Tommy would be daft over the baby. 

Sarah came out now to say that tea was ready--she had insisted on beingresponsible for everything on this first day. Not that there was muchto do, for Brownie had sent over a colossal hamper, declaring that MissTommy shouldn't be bothered with thinking about food when she wasn't'ardly settled. So they packed into the little dining-room; where, indeed, it took no small ingenuity to stow so large a party, when threeof the six happened to be of the size of David Linton and Jim and Wally;and Tommy did the honours of her own table for the first time. 

"And to think, " she said presently, "that six months ago there was onlyLancaster Gate! Of course, there was always Bob"--she flashed him aquick smile--"but Bob was--"

"In the air, " put in Norah. 

"Very much so. And it didn't seem a bit certain that I could ever gethim out of it; or, if I did, that I could ever escape from LancasterGate. "

"And you wouldn't, if the she-dragon had had her way, " Bob said. 

"No. There was nothing to do but run. But even when I dreamed ofrunning, I never thought of more than a workman's cottage, with youearning wages and me trying to make both ends meet. And now--look at us!Bloated capitalists and station owners. "

"Well, you were a cook not so long ago. I wouldn't be too proud, " Wallygibed. 

"All the more reason for me to be proud--I've risen in the world, "declared Tommy. "Left my situation to better myself--isn't thatthe right way to put it? And we've got the jolliest home inAustralia--thanks to all of you. Do have some more cake, Mr. Linton; I'dlove to say I made it myself, but Brownie did--still, all the same, it'smine. "

"Don't you worry, " he told her. "I'm coming here plenty of times forcake of your own baking. "

"That's what I want. " She beamed at him. "All of you. Bob and I willfeel lost and lonesome if we don't see you all--oh, often. "

"But you're going to, " Norah said. "We'll be over goodness knows howmany times a week, and you two are always coming to dinner on Sunday, and ever so many other days as well. "

"Was it in your plans that any work should be done on this estate?"queried Bob solemnly. 

"Why, yes, in your spare time, " Wally answered. "Any time you're not onthe road between here and Billabong, or catching a horse to go there, orletting one go after coming back, or minding the Billabong horde when itcomes over, you can do a little towards improving the creek. I say, Bob, it sounds the sort of life I'd love. Can't you give me a job, old man?"

"Seeing that you've done little but work on this place since you cameback from Queensland, I shouldn't think you'd need to ask for a job, "retorted Bob. "However, I'll take you on as milker if you like--it'sabout the only thing you haven't sampled. "

"No, " said Wally, "you won't. Whatever beast I finally take to by wayof earning my living, it won't be the cow--if I can help it. I'd soonergraze giraffes!"

"Oh, do try!" Norah begged. "I'd love to see you trying to put a bridleon one in a hurry!"

"Wonder what would happen if one rode a giraffe and he reared?" ponderedJim. 

"You'd have to swarm up his neck and hang on to his little horns, " Wallysaid. "But they're nice, silent beasts, giraffes, and I think they'd bevery restful to deal with. "

Every one laughed unsympathetically. Restfulness was the last qualityto be associated with Wally, who had been remarkable throughout his lifefor total inability to keep still. 

"It's always the way, " said Wally, in tones of melancholy. "Everyfortune teller I ever saw told me that no one understood me. "

"All fortune tellers say that, and that's why people think them soclever, " said Tommy. "It's so soothing to think one is misunderstood. Mystepmother always thought so. Did Bob tell you, Mr. Linton, that we hadhad letters from home?"

"No--from your people?"

"From Papa. The she-dragon didn't write. I think her words wouldhave been too burning to put on paper. But Papa wrote a pretty decentletter--for him. He didn't speak of our letters from Liverpool--thenotes we wrote from the hotel, saying we were leaving for Australia. But he acknowledged Bob's letter from Melbourne, saying we were goingup country under your wing, and actually wished us luck! Amazing, fromPapa!"

"I think he's jolly glad we got away, " Bob said. 

"I think that's highly probable, " said David Linton. "You'll write tohim occasionally, won't you?"

"Oh, yes, I suppose so, " Bob answered. "Sometimes I'm a bit sorryfor him; it must be pretty awful to be always under the heel of ashe-dragon. Oh, and there was a really fatherly sort of letter from oldMr. Clinton. He's an old brick; and he's quite pleased about our findingyou--or you finding us. He was always a bit worried lest Tommy shouldfeel lonesome in Australia. "

"And not you?" Norah asked laughing. 

"No, he didn't worry a bit about me; he merely hoped I'd be workingtoo hard to notice lonesomeness. I think the old chap always was a bitdoubtful that any fellow would get down to solid work after flying; heused to say the two things wouldn't agree. But you sent him a decentreport of me, didn't you, sir?"

"Oh, yes--I wrote when you asked me, just after you bought this place, "David Linton said. "Told him you were working like a cart-horse, whichwas no more than the truth, and that Tommy was serving her adoptedcountry as a cook; and that I considered your prospects good. He'll havehad that letter before now--and I suppose others from you. "

"We wrote a few weeks ago--sent him a photograph of the house, andof Tommy on a horse, and Tommy told him all about our furniture, " Bobchuckled. "I don't quite know how a staid old London lawyer will regardthe furniture; he won't understand its beauty a bit. But he ought to beimpressed with our stern regard for economy. "

"He should, " said Mr. Linton with a twinkle. "And I presume youmentioned the sheep?"

"As a matter of fact, " said Tommy confidentially, "his letter was littlebut mutton. He described all his ewes in detail--"

"Colour of their eyes?" queried Wally. 

"And their hair, " nodded Tommy. "I never read anything so poetical. Andany enthusiasm he had over went to the pigs and the Kelpie pup!"

"But what about the cows?" laughed Norah. "And the young bullocks?"

"Oh, he mentioned them. But cattle are just four-legged animals toBob; they don't stir his soul like sheep and pigs. He couldn't writebeautiful things about them. But when it comes to sheep, he justnaturally turns into a poet!"

The object of these remarks helped himself serenely to cake. 

"Go on, " he nodded at his sister cheerfully. "Wait until my wool chequecomes in, and you want a new frock--then you'll speak respectfully of mylittle merinoes. And if you don't, you won't get the frock!"

"Why, I wouldn't disrespect them for anything, " Tommy said. "I thinkthey're lovely beasts. So graceful and agile. Will any of them come yetwhen you whistle, Bobby?"

"Are you going to put up with this sort of thing, Bob?" demanded Jim. 

Bob smiled sweetly. 

"I'm letting her have her head, " he said confidently. "It's badlyswelled just now, because she's got a house of her own--but you waituntil she wants a new set of shelves, or a horse caught in a hurryso that she can tear over and find out from Norah how to cooksomething--then she'll come to heel. It's something in your climate, Ithink, because she was never so cheeky at home--meek was more the wordto describe her. "

"Meek!" said his sister indignantly. "Indeed, I never was meek in mylife!"

"Indeed you were, and it was very becoming, " Bob assured her. "Nowyou're more like a suffragette--" He stopped, staring. "Why, that's it!It must be in the air! She knows she'll have the vote pretty soon!" Hebroke into laughter. "Glory! Fancy little Tommy with a vote!"

Tommy joined in the general mirth. 

"I hadn't realized it, " she said, "and I needn't bother for overeighteen months, anyhow. And I don't believe that any of you have evervoted, even if you are twenty-one--except Mr. Linton, of course; and youdon't know a bit more about it than I do. "

"Hear, hear!" said Wally. "I certainly don't, and neither does Jim. Butwhen we do vote, it's going to be for the chap who'll let us go and digour own coal out if there's a strike. That's sense; and it seems to methe only sensible thing I've ever heard of in politics!" A speech whichmanifested so unusual an amount of reflection in Wally that every onewas spellbound, and professed inability to eat any more. 

Bob and Tommy stood on the verandah to watch their visitors go; Mr. Linton and Norah in the motor, while Jim and Wally rode. The merryshouts of farewell echoed through the gathering dusk. 

"Bless them, " said Tommy--"the dears. I don't believe we'd have a homenow but for them, Bob. "

"We certainly wouldn't, " Bob answered. "And sometimes I feel as ifthey'd spoon-fed us. Look at all they've done for us--these months atBillabong and all they've taught us, and all the things that they'veshowered on us. We couldn't pay them back in twenty years. "

"And they talk as if the favour were on their side, " his sister said. "There's the buggy they've lent us--Mr. Linton spent quite a long timein pointing out to me how desirable it was for them that we should useit, now that they have the car and don't need it. And the horses thatapparently would have gone to rack and ruin from idleness if we hadn'tcome. "

"And the cows that don't seem to have had any reason for existenceexcept to supply us with milk, " Bob said laughing; "and the farmmachinery that never was really appreciated until immigrants camealong--at least, you'd think so to hear Jim talk, only its conditionbelies him. Oh, they're bricks, all right. Only I don't seem as if Iwere standing squarely on my own feet. "

"I don't think we could expect to, just yet, " said Tommy pondering. "Andif they have helped us, Bobby, you can see they have loved doing it. Itwould be ungracious for us not to take such help--given as it has been. "

"Yes, of course, " Bob answered and squared his shoulders. "Well, I'm going to work like fury. The only thing I can do now is not todisappoint them. I feel an awful new-chum, Tommy, but I've got to makegood. "

"Why, of course you're going to, " she said, slipping a hand through hisarm. "Jim wouldn't let you make mistakes; and the land is good, andeven if we strike a bad season, there's always the creek--we'll never bewithout water, Jim says. And we're going to have the jolliest home--it'sthat now, and we're going to make it better. "

"It's certainly that now, " Bob said. "I just can't believe it's ours. Come and prowl round, old girl. "

They prowled round in the dusk; up and down the garden paths by thenodding daffodils, out round the sheds and the pigsties, and so downto where the creek rippled and murmured in the gloom, flowing throughpaddocks that, on either side, were their own. Memories of war and ofgloomy London fell away from them; only the bright present and a futureyet more bright filled them; and there was no loneliness, since allthe big new country had smiled to them and stretched out hands offriendliness. They came back slowly to their house, arm in arm; twoyoung things, like shadows in the gloom, but certain in their own mindsthat they could conquer Australia. 

Bob lit the hanging lamp in the little sitting-room, and looked roundhim proudly. A photograph caught his eye; a large group at his SurreyAerodrome, young officers clustered round a bi-plane that had justlanded. 

"Poor chaps, " he said, and stared at them. "Most of 'em don't know yetthat there's anything better in the world than flying. "

"But they've never met merino sheep, " said Tommy solemnly. 

CHAPTER XIV

THE CUNJEE RACES

"Who's going to the races?" demanded Jim. 

He had ridden over to the creek alone, and Tommy had come to the gardengate to greet him, since the young horse he was riding firmly declinedto be tied up. It was a very hot morning in Christmas week. Tommy was ina blue print overall, and her face was flushed, her hair lying in littledamp rings on her forehead. Jim, provokingly cool in riding breeches andwhite silk shirt, smiled down at her across the gate. 

"Races!" said Tommy. "But what frivolity. Why, I'm bottling apricots. "

"No wonder you look warm, you poor little soul, " said Jim. "You oughtn'tto choose a scorcher like this for bottling. Anyhow, the races aren'tto-day, but New Year's day--Cunjee Picnic meeting. We're all going, soyou and Bob have got to come. Orders from Norah. "

"Oh, New Year's day. I'd love to come, " Tommy said. "I've never seenraces. "

"Never seen races!" ejaculated young Australia in sheer amazement. "Where were you dragged up?" They laughed at each other. 

"Aunt Margaret wasn't what you'd call a racing woman, " Tommy said. "Idon't fancy Bob has seen any, either. Bill and Sarah, to say nothing ofthe baby, are going. I offered to mind the baby, but Sarah didn't seemto think the picnic would be complete without her. "

"People have queer tastes, " Jim said. "I wouldn't choose a long dayat races as the ideal thing for a baby; but Sarah seems to thinkdifferently. Wonder what Bill thinks? Still, I'm glad she didn't takeyou at your word, because we'd have had to dispose of the baby somewhereif she had. I suppose we could put it under the seat of the car!"

"Oh, do you?" Tommy regarded him with a glint in her eye. "No; we'd havemade you nurse her--she isn't 'it. ' She's the nicest baby ever, and Iwon't have her insulted. "

"Bless you, I wouldn't insult the baby for worlds, " grinned Jim. "I'lllook forward to meeting her at the races--especially as you won't beminding her. Then it's settled, is it, Tommy? We thought of riding; willit be too far for you?"

"Not a bit, " Tommy said. "Bob and I rode in and out of Cunjee the otherday, and I wasn't tired--and it was dreadfully hot. "

"Then you'll be all right on New Year's day, because the racecourse istwo miles this side of the township, " Jim said. "But Norah said I was totell you some of us could easily go in the car if you'd rather drive. "

"Oh, no, thanks; I know you always ride, and I should love it, " Tommyanswered. "Is Mr. Linton going?"

"Oh, yes. Indeed, as far as I can tell, the whole station's going, " Jimsaid. "All except Brownie, of course; she scorns races. She says shecan't imagine why anyone should make anything run fast in the 'eat ifthey don't want to. "

"Does Brownie ever leave Billabong?"

"Hardly ever, " Jim answered, laughing--"and it's getting more and moredifficult to make her. I think in a year or two it will need a chargeof dynamite. Oh, but, Tommy, we got her out in the car the otherevening--had to do it almost by main force. It was a hot evening, andwe took her for a spin along the road. She trembled like a jelly when westarted, and all the time she gripped the side with one hand and Norah'sknee with the other--quite unconsciously. "

"Do you think she enjoyed it at all?" Tommy smiled. 

"No, I'm jolly well sure she didn't, " Jim responded. "Brownie's much toowell mannered to criticize anyone else's property, but when she gotout she merely said, 'You have great courage, my dear. ' And wild horseswouldn't get her into it again, unless we promised to 'make it walk, 'like we did the day we brought her over to help at your working bee. Thefunny part of it is that Norah believes she was just as frightened thatmorning, only she had a job on, and so was too busy to think of it. Butas for going in a car for mere pleasure--not for Brownie!"

"Brownie's a dear, " said Tommy irrelevantly. "Jim, can't you put thatfierce animal in the stable or the horse paddock, or somewhere, and comein for some tea? I simply must get back to my apricots. "

"And I've certainly no business to be keeping you standing here in theheat, " Jim said. "No, I can't stay, thanks, Tommy--I promised dad I'dmeet him at the Far Plain gate at eleven o'clock, and it's nearly thatnow. You run in to your apricots, and don't kill your little self overthem; it's no day for cooking if you can avoid it. "

"Oh, but I couldn't, " Tommy answered. "They were just right forbottling; the sun to-day would have made them a bit too soft. And it'sbetter to get them done; to-morrow may be just as hot, or hotter. "

"That's true enough, " Jim said. "Feeling the heat much, little MissImmigrant?"

"Oh, not enough to grumble at, " she answered, smiling. "And thebathing-hole in the creek is a joy; it's almost worth a hot day to get aswim at the end of it. Bob has built me a bathing-box out of a tree, andit's a huge success; he's very pleased with himself as an architect. "

"That's good business, " approved Jim. "You two never grumble, no matterwhat comes along. "

"Well, but nothing has come along but good luck, " Tommy said. "What havewe had to grumble at, I should like to know?"

"Oh, some people find cause for grousing, no matter how good their luckis, " Jim answered. "I believe you and old Bob would decline to recognizebad luck even if it did come your way. "

"It's not coming, " Tommy said, laughing. "So don't talk about it--Idon't believe it exists. " She stood watching him for a moment as hetried to mount; his big young thoroughbred resented the idea of anyoneon his back, and Jim had to hop beside him, with one foot in thestirrup, while he danced round in a circle, trying to get away. Jimseized an opportunity, and was in the saddle with a lithe swing;whereupon the horse tried to get his head down to buck, and, beingchecked in that ambition, progressed down the paddock in a succession ofshort, staccato bounds. 

"I think I should have to recognize bad luck coming if I had to ride himinstead of Jim, " remarked Tommy quaintly. She turned and ran in to herneglected apricots. 

New Year's day broke clear and hot, like all the week before it. Norah, arriving at the Creek about ten o'clock, looked a little anxiously ather friend. 

"We're used to riding in the heat, Tommy, dear, " she said. "But you'renot--are you sure you feel up to it?"

"Why, I'm going to love it, " Tommy said. She looked cool andworkman-like in a linen habit and white pith helmet--Norah's Christmaspresent. "I hadn't these nice things to wear when Bob and I brought thesheep out from Cunjee three weeks ago; and it was just as hot, and sodusty. And that didn't kill me. I liked it, only I never got so dirty inmy life. "

"Well, we shall only have a hot ride one way, " said Norahphilosophically. "There's a concert in Cunjee, and the boys want to stayfor it. The concert won't be much, but the ride home in the moonlightwill be lovely. You and Bob can stay, of course?"

"Oh, yes. Bill must bring Sarah and the baby home in good time, so hewill milk the cows, " Tommy answered. "He wanted them to stay for theconcert, but Sarah had an amazing attack of common sense, and said itwas no place for a baby. I didn't think she considered any place unfitfor a baby, and certainly Bill doesn't. "

"Bush people don't, " said Norah, laughing. "If they did, they wouldnever go anywhere, because the babies must go too, no matter whathappens. And the babies get accustomed to it, and don't cry nearly asmuch as pampered ones that are always in the nursery. "

"Bush kiddies grow a stock of common sense quite early, " said Wally'svoice from the door. "It leaves them in later life, and they staygossiping with immigrants in new riding-kit, leaving their unfortunatefathers grilling in the sun. Which he says--" But at this point Norahand Tommy brushed the orator from their path, and hastened out to thehorses--finding all the men comfortably smoking under a huge peppertree, and apparently in no hurry to start. 

Bob bewailed his yellow paddocks as they rode down to the gate. 

"They were so beautifully green a few weeks ago, " he said. "Now look atthem--why, they're like a crop. The sun has burnt every bit of moistureout of them. "

"Don't let that worry you, my boy, " David Linton said. "The stock aredoing all right; as long as they have plenty of good water at this timeof the year they won't ask you for green grass. " He gave a low chuckle. "You wouldn't think this was bad feed if you had seen the country in thedrought years--why, the paddocks were as bare as the palm of your hand. Now you've grass, as you say yourself, like a crop. " He looked at itcritically. "I could wish you hadn't as much; fires will be a bit of ananxiety later on. "

"Grass fires?" queried Bob. 

"Yes. There's not enough timber here to have a real bush fire. But thisgrass is dry enough now, and by February it will go like tinder if anyfool swagman drops a match carelessly. However, you'll just have to keepyour eyes open. Luckily, your creek can't burn--you'll always have somuch safeguard, because your stock could take to it; and that row ofwillows along the bank would check any grass fire. "

"My word, wouldn't a fire race across the Billabong plains this year!"said Wally. 

"Yes, it would certainly travel, " agreed Mr. Linton. "Well, we'veploughed fire-breaks, and burned round the house, and we can only hopefor good luck. You'd better burn a break round your house soon, Bob. "

"Bill was saying so only this morning, " Bob answered. "I nearly chuckedthe races and stayed at home to do it--only I was afraid it might getaway from me single-handed, and I couldn't very well keep Bill at home. "

"Oh, time enough, " the squatter said lightly. "You're not so dry as weare, and we only burned last week. "

"We'll come over and help you to-morrow, if you like, " Jim said. "Wallywants work; he's getting too fat. A little gentle exercise with a racingfire on a hot day would be the very thing for him. We'll come and burnoff with you, and then have a bathing party in the creek, and then youand Tommy must come back to tea with us. " Which was a sample of the waymuch of the work was done on the Creek Farm. It had never occurred tothe two Rainhams that life in Australia was lonely. 

The road to Cunjee was usually bare of much traffic, but on the onerace day of the year an amazing number of vehicles were dotted alongit, light buggies, farm wagonettes, spring carts and the universaltwo-wheeled jinker, all crammed with farmers and settlers and theirfamilies. Wives, a little red-faced and anxious, resplendent in theirSunday finery, kept a watchful eye on small boys and girls; the boysin thick suits, the girls with white frocks, their well-crimped hairbearing evidence of intense plaiting overnight. Hampers peeped fromunder the seats, and in most cases a baby completed the outfit. Now andthen a motor whizzed by, leaving a long trail of dust-cloud in its wake, and earning hearty remarks from every slower wayfarer. There were riderseverywhere, men and women--most of the latter with riding-skirts slippedon over light dresses that would do duty that night at the concert andthe dance that was to follow. Sometimes a motor-cycle chugged along, always with a girl perched on the carrier at the back, clingingaffectionately to her escort. As Cunjee drew nearer and the farms closertogether the crowd on the road increased, and the dust mounted in asolid cloud. 

The Billabong people drew to one side, as close as possible to thefence, cantering over the short, dusty grass. It was with a sigh ofrelief that Jim at last pointed out a paddock across which buggies andhorsemen were making their way. 

"There's the racecourse, " he said. 

"Racecourse!" Tommy ejaculated. "But it just looks like an ordinarypaddock. "

"That's all it is, " said Jim, laughing. "You didn't expect a grand-standand a lawn, did you? Cunjee is very proud of itself for having a turfclub at all, and nobody minds anything as long as they get an occasionalglimpse of the horses. "

"But where do they run?"

"Oh, the track goes in and out among the trees. There's some talk ofclearing it before the next meeting by means of a working bee. Butthey won't worry if it doesn't get done--every one will come and have apicnic just the same. You see, there are only two days in the year whena bush place can really let itself go--Show day and Race day. Showday is more serious and business-like, but Race day is a reallylight-hearted affair, and the horses don't matter to most of thepeople. "

They turned into a gate where two men were busily collecting shillingsand keeping a wary eye lest foot passengers should dodge in through thefence without paying. There were no buildings at all in the bush paddockin which they found themselves. It lay before them, flat, save fora rise towards the southern boundary, where already the crowd wasthickening, and sparsely timbered. As they cantered across it they cameto a rough track, marked out more or less effectively by pink calicoflags nailed to the trees. 

"That's the racing track, " Wally said. "Let's ride round it, and we'llhave a faint idea of what the horses are doing later on. "

They turned along the track, where the grass had been worn by horsestraining for the races during the few weeks preceding the great day. Thetrees had been cleared from it, so that it was good going. In shape itwas roughly circular, with an occasional dint or bulge where a big redgum had been too tough a proposition to clear, and the track had had toswing aside to avoid it--a practice which must, as Jim remarked, makeinteresting moments in riding a race, if the field were larger thanusual and the pace at all hot. Presently they emerged from the timberand came into the straight run that marked the finish--running along thefoot of the southern rise, so that, whatever happened in the mysteriousmoments in the earlier parts of a race, the end was within full view ofthe crowd. The winning-post was a sawed-off sapling, painted half-blackand half-white; opposite to it was the judge's box, a huge log whichmade a natural grand-stand, capable of accommodating the racingcommittee as well. Behind, a rough wire fence enclosed a smallspace known as the saddling paddock. The crowd picked out its ownaccommodation--it was necessary to come early if you wanted a goodplace on the rise. Already it was dotted with picnic parties, preparingluncheon, and a procession of men and boys, bearing teapots and billies, came and went about a huge copper, steaming over a fire, where theracing club dispensed hot water free of charge, a generosity chieflyintended to prevent the casual lighting of fires by the picnickers. All over the paddock people were hastening through the business of themidday meal; the men anxious to get it over before the real excitementof the day began with the racing, the women equally keen to feed theirhungry belongings and then settle down to a comfortable gossip withfriends perhaps only seen once or twice in the twelve months. Childrentore about wildly, got in the way of buggies and motors, climbed treesand clustered thickly round any horse suspected of taking part inthe racing. More than one candidate for a race appeared on the coursedrawing a jinker; and, being released from the shafts, was beingvigorously groomed by his shirt-sleeved owner. 

"There's an awful lot to see!" ejaculated Tommy, gazing about her. 

"That is if you've eyes, " Jim said. "But most of it can be seen on foot, so I vote Wally and Bob and I take the horses and tie them up whilethere's still a decent patch of shade left for them to stand in--everytree in the paddock will have horses tied to it before long. Do you knowwhere Evans was to leave the buggy, Dad?"

"Yes--it's under a tree over there, " said his father, nodding towards abushy clump of wattles. "I told him to pick out a good shady place forlunch. We'll go on and get ready, boys. I'll take the teapot for hotwater. "

"Not you!" said Jim. "We'll be back in a few minutes and can easily getit. Just help the girls with the things, Dad, and we'll get lunch over;I'm as hungry as a hawk. "

"I'm not hungry, " said Norah. "But I want, oh! gallons of tea. "

Tea seemed the main requirement of everybody. It was almost too hot toeat, even in the deep shade of the wattles. The boys, taught by the warto feed wherever and whenever possible, did some justice to Brownie'shamper; but Mr. Linton soon drew aside and lit his pipe at a littledistance, while Tommy and Norah nibbled tomato and lettuce sandwiches, kept fresh and cool by being packed in huge nasturtium leaves, and drankmany cups of tea. Then they lay under the trees until a bell, ringingfrom the saddling paddock, hinted that the first race was at hand. Therewas a surge of people towards the rise. 

"Come on, " Jim said, jumping up. "Help me to stow these things in thebuggy, Wally--we'll want most of them for afternoon tea later on. Thenwe might as well go and see the fun. You girls rested?"

They were, they declared; and presently they set off towards the rise. Already the horses were appearing on the track, most of the jockeyswearing silk jackets and caps, although a few were content with doffingcoat and waistcoat, and riding in blue and pink shirts--occasionally, but not always, complete with collar and tie. The horses were a mixedlot; some bore traces of birth and breeding, but the majority were justgrass-fed horses from the neighbouring farms and stations, groomed andpolished in a way that only happened to them once a year. The well-bredperformers were handicapped with heavy weights, while the others hadbeen let off lightly, so that all had a chance. 

"Billabong has a horse running to-day--did you know?" Jim inquired. 

"No!" Tommy looked up, dimpling with interest. "But how exciting, Jim. Is it yours?"

"No. " Jim shook his head. "I won't enter a horse if I can't ride himmyself, and of course I'm too heavy. He belongs to the station, but he'salways looked upon as Murty's, and black Billy's going to ride him. He'sin the Hurdle Race. "

"Do you think he has any chance?"

"Well, he can gallop and jump all right, " Jim said. "But he hasn't hadmuch training, and whether he'll jump in company is open to doubt. ButI don't think he'll disgrace us. You've seen Murty riding him--a bigchestnut with a white blaze. "

"Oh, yes--he calls him Shannon, doesn't he?" said Tommy. "I saw him jumpthree fences on him last time we were out mustering with your people. He's a beauty, Jim. "

"Yes, he's pretty good. Murty thinks he's better than Garryowen, but Idon't, " Jim observed. 

"If the Archangel Gabriel turned into a horse you wouldn't think he wasup to Garryowen!" said Wally. 

"No, and he probably wouldn't be, " said Jim, laughing. "If you beginlife as an archangel, how would you settle down to being a horse after?"

"I suppose it needs practice, " Wally admitted. "Look out--here theycome!"

The horses were coming down the straight in their preliminary canter, and the crowd abandoned the business of picnicking and turned itsattention to the first race. The riders, mostly local boys, lookeddesperately serious, and, as they pulled up after their canter, andturning, trotted slowly back past the rise, shouts of warning andencouragement and instruction came to them--from the owners of theirmounts--which had the effect of making the boys look yet more unhappy. A bookmaker, the sole representative of his profession, yelled steadilyfrom under a lightwood tree; those who were venturesome enough to dobusiness with him were warned solemnly by more experienced men to keep asharp look-out that he did not get away with their money before the endof the day. 

"That happened in Cunjee some years ago, " said Mr. Linton. "A bookmakerappeared from goodness knows where, and struck a very solid patch of badluck. All the district seemed to know how to pick winners that day, and he lost solidly on every race. He plunged a bit on the fourth race, hoping to get his money back; but that was worse still, and when hesaw the favourite winning, he knew he had no hope of settling up. So hequietly collected his horse, which he had tied up in a convenientplace, in case it was wanted in a hurry, and made tracks before the racefinished. "

"What happened to him?" asked Bob. 

Mr. Linton chuckled. 

"Well, he added considerably to the excitement of the day. Some onesaw him going, and passed the word round, and every man to whom he owedmoney--and they were many--ran for his horse and went after him. He hada good start, and no one knew what road he would take, so it was quitea cheery hunt. I think it was Dave Boone who tracked him at last, and hepaused at a cross-roads, and coo-eed steadily until he had a numberof followers. Then they set sail after the poor bookie, and caughthim about seven or eight miles away. They found he had practically nomoney--not nearly enough to divide up; so they took what he had andpresented it to the Cunjee Hospital, and finished up the day happily bytarring and feathering the bookie, and riding him on a fence rail roundCunjee that night!"

"What do your police do in a case like that?" Bob asked. 

"Well, there's only one policeman in Cunjee, and, being a wise man, hewent to the concert, and probably enjoyed himself very much, " said Mr. Linton, laughing. 

"And what happened to the bookie?"

"Just what you might expect--the boys got sorry for him, made acollection for him, bought him some cheap clothes--I believe they didn'terr on the side of beauty!--and shipped him off to Melbourne by thefirst train in the morning. I don't think he'll try his artful dodgeson this section of the bush again; and it has made all the boys verywatchful about betting, so it wasn't a bad thing, on the whole. Theythink they know all about the ways of the world now. Look, Tommy--thehorses are off! Watch through the trees, and you'll get a glimpsepresently. "

The gay jackets flashed into view in a gap in the timber, and then werelost again. Soon they came in sight once more and rounded the lastcurve into the straight, amid shouts from the crowd. They came up thestraight, most of the jockeys flogging desperately, while everyonerushed to get as near the winning-post as possible. Hats were flung inthe air and yells rose joyfully, as a Cunjee boy, riding a desperatefinish, got his horse's nose in front in the last couple of lengths andwon cleverly. 

"She's excited!" said Wally, looking down at Tommy's flushed face. 

"I should think so, " said Tommy. "Why, it was dreadfully exciting. I'dlove to have been riding myself. " At which everyone laughed extremely, and a tall young stockman from a neighbouring station, overhearing, wasso impressed that he hovered as near as possible to Tommy for the restof the day. 

The next event was the Hurdle Race, and interest for the Linton partycentred in the candidate described on the race-card as Mr. M. O'Toole'sShannon. Nothing further could be done for Shannon--he was groomed untilthe last hair on his tail gleamed; but black Billy, resplendent in abright green jacket and cap, the latter bearing an embroidered whiteshamrock, became the object of advice and warning from every man fromBillabong, until anyone except Billy would probably have turned in wrathupon the multitude of his counsellors. Billy, however, had one refugedenied to most of his white brothers. He hardly ever spoke; and if somereply was absolutely forced upon him, he merely murmured "Plenty!" in avague way, which, as Wally said, left you guessing as to his meaning. 

"Yerra, lave off badgerin' the boy, " said Murty at last, brushing asideDave Boone and Mick Shanahan, and the other Billabong enthusiasts. "If he listens to the lot of ye anny longer he won't know whether he'sridin' a horse or an airyplane. There's only wan insthruction to bekapin' in your head, Billy--get to the front an' stay there. Ridin' awaitin' race is all very well on the flat, but whin it comes to jumpin', anything that's in front of ye is apt to turn a somersault an' bring yedown in a heap. "

"Plenty!" agreed Billy; and lit a cigarette. 

"Shannon don't like anny other horse in front of him at all, " went onMurty. "He's that full of pride he never tuk kindly to bein' behind, notsince he was bruk in. He'll gallop like a machine an' lep like a deer ifhe gets his head. "

"I don't b'lieve you've much show, anyhow, " Dave Boone said. "There'sthat horse from the hotel at Mulgoa--Blazer, they call him. He's done noend of racin', and won, too. "

"Well, an' if he has, hasn't he the great weight itself to be carryin'?"demanded Murty. 

"Why, he's top weight, of course; but you're carryin' ever so much overweight, " responded Mr. Boone. "If you'd put up a boy instead of Billy, you could be pounds lighter. "

"Ah, git away with your advisin', " replied Murty. "Billy knows thehorse--an' where'd a shlip of a boy be if Shannon cleared out with him?I'd rather carry too much weight, an' know I'd put a man up as couldhold the horse. " His anxious eye fell on the girls. "Miss Norah and MissTommy!--come here an' wish him luck without offerin' me any advice, orI'll lose me life over the ould race! They have desthroyed me with allthe things they're afther tellin' me to do. "

"We won't tell you a thing, Murty--except that he's looking splendid, "Norah said, stroking Shannon's nose, to which the horse responded bynuzzling round her pocket in search of an apple. "No, I can't give youone, old man--I wouldn't dare. But you shall have one after the race, whether you win or not, can't he, Murty?"

"He can so, " said Murty. "Wance he's gone round that thrack he can liveon the fat of the land--an' Billy, too. It's a dale aisier to get thecondition off a horse than off Billy. No man on this earth 'ud make ablack fellow see why he shouldn't have a good blow-out whenever it camehis way. Only that Providence made him skinny by nature, he'd be fatas a porpoise this day. I've been watchin' over his meals like a motherwith a delicate baby these three weeks back; but what hope 'ud I havewith Christmas comin' in the way? He got away on me at Christmas dinner, an' what he didn't ate in the way of turkey an puddin' wouldn't be worthmentioning--an' him booked to ride to-day! 'Plenty' always did be hismotter, an' he lives up to it. So he's pounds overweight, an' no helpfor it. "

"Never mind, Murty, " Jim said. "He knows the horse, and Shannon's ableto stand a few pounds extra. He'll give us a good run. "

"I believe ye, Masther Jim, " said Murty, beaming. "He'll not disgraceus, an' if he don't win itself, then he'll not be far behind. There youare, Billy--that's the bell for weighin'. Hurry up now, and get over tothe scales. "

The black boy's lean figure, saddle and bridle on arm, threaded its waythrough the crowd round the weighing enclosure--a little space fencedoff by barbed wire. Presently they saw him coming back grinning. 

"That pfeller sayin' I plenty too much pounds, " he said in an unusualburst of eloquence. 

"Ah, don't be rubbin' it in--don't I know it?" quoth Murty, taking thesaddle and slipping it deftly on Shannon's back. "I dunno, did he thinkhe was givin' me a pleasant surprise with the information by way of aNew Year's gift. Does he think we've never a scales on Billabong, didye ask him? There now, he's ready. Get on him, Billy, an' shove out intothe track for a canter. I'll get nothing but chat from every one aslong as you're here. Take him for a look at some of the hurdles, the wayhe'll know all about them when he comes to jump. " He stood with a frownon his good-humoured face as Shannon and his rider made off. 

Norah laid a hand on his arm. 

"There's not a horse on the course better turned out, Murty, " she said. "No one can say the Billabong representative doesn't look fit. "

Murty turned on her, beaming again. 

"Well, indeed, he'll not be doin' the station any discredit, MissNorah, " he said happily, "an' if he don't win, well, we can't all bewinnin', can we? Only we did win a race last year, whin none of yewere here to be watchin' us an' make it worth while. I'd like to scoreto-day, now that ye're all here to see--an' Miss Tommy too, that's neverseen racin'. " He smiled down at the English girl's pink face. 

"I'm going to see you win to-day, Murty--I feel it in my bones, " saidTommy promptly. "I've always loved Shannon, ever since I saw you jumpthose big fences with him when we put up the hare out mustering. "

"Yerra, that one'd make a steeplechaser if he got the trainin', "declared Murty, all his troubles forgotten. "Come a little higher up, won't ye, Miss Norah; we can see every jump from the top of the rise, barrin' the wan that's in the timber. "

They followed him up the little hill until he declared himself satisfiedwith his position; and he spent the time until the flag fell in pointingout to Tommy the exact places where the hurdles were erected--pausingonly for a proud look when Shannon thundered past below them in hispreliminary canter, the green jacket bright in the sun, and every musclein the horse's gleaming body rippling as he moved. He was reefing andplunging in his gallop, trying to get his head; but Billy soon steadiedhim, and presently brought him up the straight again at a quiet trot. The other horses went out, one by one, until at length a field of eightfaced the starter; and presently they were off, and over the first jumpin a body. They came down the straight on the first time round, packedclosely, a glittering mass of shining horses and bright colours. Onedropped at the jump near the judge's box, and as the other horses racedaway round the turn the riderless horse followed, while his jockey laystill for a moment, a little scarlet blur upon the turf. Eager helpersran forward to pick him up, but he was on his feet before they couldreach him, and came limping up the hill, a little bruised and infinitelydisgusted. 

"He's all right, " Murty said. "Yerra, Mr. Jim, did ye see the ould horsejump! He wint ahead at his fences like a deer!"

The horses were in the timber; they peered anxiously at the bright patchof colour that showed from time to time, trying to see the familiargreen jacket. Then, as the field came into view Murty uttered anirrepressible yell, for his horse shot ahead at the next jump and cameinto the straight in the lead. Murty gripped at the nearest object, which happened to be Norah's shoulder, and clenched it tightly, muttering, in his excitement, words in his native Irish. They thunderedup the straight, Billy crouching on Shannon's neck, very still. Thenbehind him the Mulgoa horse drew out from the ruck and came in chase. Nearer and nearer he came, while the shouts from the crowd grew louder. Up, up, till his nose was at Shannon's quarter--at his girth--at hisshoulder, and the winning-post was very near. Then suddenly Billy liftedhis whip and brought it down once, and Shannon shot forward with a lastwild bound. Murty's hat went up in the air--and Wally's with it. 

"He's done it!" Murty babbled. "Yerra, what about Billabong now?" Hesuddenly found himself gripping Norah's shoulder wildly, and would haveapologized but that Norah herself was dancing with delight, and lookingfor his hand to grasp. And the crowd was shouting "Shannon! Shannon!Billabong!"--since all of these Cunjee folk loved Billabong and weresteadily jealous of Mulgoa. Jim and Wally were thumping Murty on theback. Bob and Mr. Linton stood beaming at him. Below them Billy cametrotting back on his victorious steed, sitting with a grave face, asexpressionless as if he had not just accomplished his heart's desire. But his dark, mysterious eyes scanned the crowd as he turned fromweighing in, and only grew satisfied when he saw the Billabong partyhurrying to greet him. They shook his hand, and smote him on the back, Dave Boone and Mick Shanahan prancing with joy. And Shannon, his glossycoat dark with sweat, nuzzled again at Norah's pocket for an apple--andthis time got it. 

This glorious event over, interest became focused on a trotting race, which brought out a queer assortment of competitors, ranging fromKing Lightfoot, a horse well known in Melbourne, to Poddy, an animalapparently more fitted to draw a hearse than to trot in a race--a lean, raw-boned horse of a sad countenance and a long nose, with a shaggyblack coat which rather resembled that of a long-haired Irish goat. There were other candidates, all fancied by their owners, but the publicsupport was only for King Lightfoot, who ran in elaborate leather andrubber harness, and was clearly regarded by his rider as of infinitecondescension to be taking part in such a very mixed company. 

It proved, however, not to be King Lightfoot's lucky day. The horsesstarted at intervals, according to their performances or merit, Poddybeing the first to move, the Melbourne horse the last. King Lightfoot, however, obstinately refused to trot, whereas Poddy revealed unexpectedpowers, flinging his long legs abroad in a whirlwind fashion, andpounding along doggedly, with his long nose outstretched as if hopingto get it past the winning-post as soon as possible. No other horse camenear him; his initial lead was never lessened, and he plugged doggedlyto victory, while the crowd roared with laughter, and out in the timberKing Lightfoot's rider wrestled with his steed in vain. Later, hisprejudice against trotting in the bush removed by stern measures, KingLightfoot flashed up the track like a meteor, with his furious riderdetermined to show something of what his steed could do. By that timePoddy was once more unsaddled, and was standing under a tree with hisweary nose drooping earthwards, so that the crowd merely yelled withlaughter anew, while the stewards unfeelingly requested the Melbourneman to get off the track. 

"Oh, isn't it hot!" Norah fanned herself with a bunch of gum leaves, andcast an anxious look at Tommy. 

It was breathlessly hot. Not a hint of air stirred among the trees ormoved the long dry grass that covered the paddock--now showing manydepressions, where tired people or horses had lain down to rest. Thehorses stood about, drooping their heads, and swishing their tailsceaselessly at the tormenting flies; men and women sought everyavailable patch of shade, while dogs stretched themselves under thebuggies, panting, with lolling tongues. Children alone ran about, asthough nothing could mar their enjoyment; but babies fretted wearily intheir mothers' arms. Overhead the sun blazed fiercely in a sky of brass. Now and then came a low growl of thunder, giving hope of a change atnight; but it was very far distant, although a dull bank of cloud lay tothe west. David Linton watched the cloud a little uneasily. 

"I don't quite like the look of it, " he muttered to himself. "I'll goand ask Murty what he thinks of it. " But Murty had been swallowed upin a crowd anxious to congratulate him on Shannon's success, andhis employer failed to find him at the moment. He came upon Sarah, however--sitting under a tree, with her baby wailing dismally. 

"To hot for her, Sarah, " David Linton said kindly. 

"That's right, sir--it's too hot for anyone, let alone a little tinykid, " Sarah said wearily. "I'd get Bill to go home if I could, but Ican't get on his tracks--and it's too hot to take baby out in the sunlooking for him. If you come across him, sir, you might tell him I wanthim. "

"All right, " said the squatter. "But you wouldn't take that long drivehome yet, Sarah--better wait until the sun goes down. "

"Well, I'd go into Cunjee, to me sister-in-law's, " said Sarah. "She'dlet me take baby's things off an' sponge her--an' I'd give a dollar todo it. No more races with kids for me in weather like this!" She croonedto the fretting baby as Mr. Linton went off. 

He found Tommy and Norah together under a tree near the track--hot, butinterested. 

"Where are the boys?"

"They're all holding ponies, " Norah said. "I don't quite know why, but avery hot and worried man collected them to help start the race. What isit for, Dad, do you know?"

"Oh, I see!" David Linton laughed. "It's--a distance handicap--theponies all start at the same moment, but from different points along thetrack. "

"Yes, that must be it, " Norah said. "Jim's away over near the timberwith a little rat of a pony, and Bob is shepherding another fifty yardsbehind him, while Wally is quite near here with that big pony of theblacksmith's that has won ever so many races. She'll have a lot ofground to make up. But why must each one be shepherded, Dad?"

"Human nature, " said David Linton, smiling. "These youngsters who areriding would sneak a yard or two if they weren't closely watched, andthey would never start fair; the only way is to put each in charge of aresponsible man with a good watch, and let him start them. What timeis the race? Oh, four o'clock. Well, I never yet saw a pony race thatstarted on time; neither the ponies nor the boys are easy to handle, andI see there are ten of them. Watch them; it's after four, and they mustbe nearly ready to start. "

The ponies were strung out round the course, each with a "shepherd"standing to attention near its bridle, watch in hand. They could seeJim's great form standing sentinel over a tiny animal, whose diminutiverider was far too afraid of the huge Major to try to snatch even a yardof ground; nearer, Wally kept a wary eye on the experienced jockeyon the blacksmith's racing mare, who was afraid of nothing, butnevertheless had a certain wholesome respect for the tall fellow wholounged easily against a tree near him, but never for an instant shiftedhis gaze. The shepherds were waiting for a signal from the officialstarter. 

It came presently, a long shrill whistle, and simultaneously eachguardian stepped back, and the released ponies went off like aflash--all save Bob's charge, who insisted on swinging round and boltingin the wrong direction, while his jockey sawed at his mouth in vain. Yawing across the track the rebel encountered the blacksmith's pony, who swerved violently in her swift course to avoid him, and lost so muchground that any chance she had in the race was hopelessly lost, whereatthe blacksmith, who was standing on the hill, raved and tore his hairunavailingly. A smart little bay pony fought out the finish with Jim'stiny charge, and was beaten by a short head, just as Wally, walkingquickly, came back to his party. 

"That was a great race, " said Norah. "Wally, you shouldn't walk so faston such a day. It makes one warm only to look at you. "

Wally answered with an absent air that was unlike his usual alertness. The girls, watching the ponies come in, noticed nothing, and presentlyhe drew Mr. Linton aside. 

"Did you notice that cloud, sir?" he asked, in a low voice. "I didn'tuntil I was down on the track with the pony, looking in that direction. But it's twice the size it was when I went down. "

"I've been looking at it, and I don't like it, " said Mr. Linton. "It's smoke, I'm positive, and too near Billabong and the Creek to becomfortable. I think we'll make tracks for home, Wally. Have you seenMurty anywhere?"

As if in answer, Mr. O'Toole came running down the hill. 

"I've been huntin' ye's everywhere, " he panted. "There's a man justkem out from Cunjee lookin' for ye, sir--some one's tallyphoned inthat there's a big grass fire comin' down on the Creek, an' 'twill bea miracle if it misses Billabong! I've told the men--they're off to getthe horses. "

Norah and Tommy had turned, with dismayed eyes. 

"Will it be at our place, Murty?" Tommy asked. 

"I dunno will it, Miss Tommy, " the Irishman answered. "But as like asnot 'twill miss it--or anyhow, we'll get there first, an' stop it doingmuch damage. Don't you worry your little head, now. "

She looked up at him gratefully. Norah's hand was thrust through herarm. 

"It may not be near the Creek at all, Tommy dear, " she said. 

"Oh, I hope it isn't--my poor old Bob!" Tommy said, under her breath. "Can we hurry, Norah?"

"They're bringing the horses, " Norah answered. "We'll be off in aminute--see, dad has gone to meet Bob. "

Wally had turned to Murty. 

"Murty, do you mind if I ride Shannon and take him across country? I'mon Marshal to-day, you know, and he can't jump for nuts. But Shannon cantake every fence between here and the Creek, and I can cut the distancein half if I go across. I'm about the lightest of us, I think. "

"So ye are--an' the horse'll take ye like a bird, " said Murty. "Don'tshpare him, Mr. Wally, if ye think ye can do any good. He's over thereunder the big wattle. "

"Right-o!" said Wally. "Tell Mr. Jim, will you, Murty?" He turned andran down the hill with long strides. 

CHAPTER XV

HOW WALLY RODE A RACE

Already the cloud was growing in the western sky--so high that itthreatened to obscure the sun that still blazed fiercely down. At firsta dull brown, there was a curious light behind it; at the edges ittrailed away into ragged wisps like floating mist. There was somethingmysteriously threatening in its dense heaviness. 

There were other men running for their horses, as Wally raced towardsShannon. The news of a grass fire had spread quickly, and every manwanted to be on his own property, for the whole countryside was coveredwith long, dry grass, and no one could say where a fire might or mightnot end. Boone and Shanahan passed Wally, leading several horses--hisown amongst them. They hailed him quickly. 

"We've got Marshal, Mr. Wally. "

"Give him to Murty, " Wally answered as he ran. "I'm riding Shannon. " Heraced on. 

"That means he's going across country, " said Dave Boone. "For two pinsI'd go too. "

"Don't you--you'd never get your horse over them fences, " Shanahan said. "An' it'll take Mr. Wally all his time to get across them wired paddocksof Maclennan's. Hope he don't break Shannon's laigs. "

"Not he; Mr. Wally's no fool, " said Boone. "Git up, y' ol' sardine!" Hekicked the horse he was leading, and they trotted up to Norah and Tommy. 

Shannon, standing with drooping head, showed little interest as Wallyflung the saddle on his back. He had won his race handsomely, and it wasa scorching day; possibly the big chestnut felt that no more should berequired of him; in which case he was soon to be rudely awakened. Wallyswung into the saddle with a quick movement, and turned him, not towardsthe gate, but in the opposite direction, which further puzzled Shannon. But he was a stock horse first and a hurdle racer as an afterthought;and a good stock horse knows his rider's mind, if that rider is a goodman. He made one tentative movement towards his paddock mates, nowmoving away towards the gate; then, feeling the touch of Wally's handon the bit, and the light pressure of his knee, he decided that some newgame was on foot, and cantered easily away. 

They crossed the racing track, going westward over the big paddock, awayfrom the buggies and the crowd. A belt of timber checked their swiftprogress a moment; then they came out into clear ground in sight ofthe boundary fence, a stiff three-railer. Wally peered at it anxiously, unable, for an instant, to see if there were a wire on top; but it wasclear, and he shook up his horse, putting him straight at the middle ofa panel. Shannon pricked his ears and flew it daintily--this was work heloved, and hot though the day might be, he was ready for any amount ofit. Also Wally was lighter than Murty, his usual rider; and although heloved Murty, and respected him greatly, this new man had a seat like afeather and a hand gentle as silk upon his tender mouth. Shannon brokeinto the gallop that he felt sure his rider wanted. 

They were in a wide paddock, bare, save for a few clumps of timber, in the shade of which sheep were thickly clustered. It was good, soundgoing, with a few little rises; and, knowing that he would have toslacken speed presently, Wally let the chestnut have his head across theclear grass. They took the next fence and the next before he drew rein. He was in country he did not know--all big farms, with many stubblefields with newly erected stacks, and with good homesteads, where nowand then a woman peered curiously from a verandah at him. There wereno men in sight; every man in the neighbourhood was at the races on NewYear's day. 

He found himself in a paddock where rough ground, thickly strewn withfallen timber, sloped down abruptly to a creek. Checking Shannon, herode more steadily down to the water, and trotted along the bank fora hundred yards, looking for a good place to ford--the banks shelvedabruptly down, and the water was unusually deep. But the only promisingfords were too thickly snagged to be tempting; and presently, with ashrug, Wally gave up the quest, and choosing a place where the fall ofthe bank was a shade less abrupt, he put the horse at it. 

Shannon hesitated, drawing back. Water was the one thing to which he hadnot been schooled on Billabong, and this place was mysterious and deep. But Wally's hand was firm, and he spoke sharply--so that the chestnutrepented of the error of his ways, and plunged obediently downwards. The bank gave under them, and they slithered down among its remnants andlanded in the water with a profound splash, almost hidden for a momentby the spray that drenched Wally's thin silk coat and shirt. Shannonfloundered violently, and nearly lost his footing--and then, decidingthat this was an excellent entertainment on a hot day, he thrust histhirsty nose into the water. Wally checked him after one mouthful. 

"I'm sorry, old chap, " he said regretfully. "I'd like it as much as you. But I can't let you have a drink just now. "

He pressed him on across the muddy stream, floundering over sunken logs, slipping into holes, dodging half-concealed snags; and so they came to abank which scarcely seemed a possible place, so steep was it. But Wallylooked at the smoke-cloud, and grew desperate, and for the firsttime touched Shannon with the spur; and the chestnut answered gamely, springing at the bank and climbing almost like a cat. Twice it brokeunder him; the third time he made some footing, and Wally suddenly flunghimself from his back, scrambling up ahead of him, and hauling at thebridle. Shannon followed, floundering and snorting; desperately relievedto find himself on firm ground again. Wally swung into the saddle andthey galloped forward. 

The next two fences were log ones, and the chestnut took them almost inhis stride. Then Wally's lips tightened, for he saw a homestead thathe knew must be Maclennan's, the most prosperous farmer about; andMaclennan had strong views on the subject of inflammable fences in acountry so liable to grass fires, and all his property was wire-fenced. The first fence stretched before him, taut and well-strung; he looked upand down its length in search of a gate, but there was none in sight. 

"I could put my coat on the top wire for you to jump if it was a thickone, old chap, " he told Shannon. "But a scrap of wet silk wouldn't bemuch good to you. We'll have to chance a post. "

He drew rein, trotting up to the fence, where he let the horse put hisnose over a post--and set his lips again when he saw that the top wirewas barbed. 

"Just you remember to pick up all your toes well, old man, " he said. 

He trotted back a little way, and, turning, came hard at the fence, putting Shannon directly at the post. This also was new to the chestnut;but once, when a foal, he had been badly pricked on barbed wire, and, ever since, one glance at its hideous spikes had been enough for him. Refusing was out of the question--Wally was leaning forward, keepinghim absolutely straight, lifting him at the post with a little shout ofencouragement. He flew over it as if it had been a hurdle. Wally pattedhis neck with a big sigh of relief. 

"Eh, but I was scared for your legs, old man!" he said. 

They galloped across a wide stubble field, while Wally's keen eyessearched the fence for a gate. He caught sight of one presently, astiff, four-railed gate, considerably higher than the fence. High as itwas, Wally preferred it to barbed wire; and by this time he had a queerfeeling that no jump would prove too much for the big, honest chestnut, who was doing so gamely everything that he was asked. Nor did Shannondisappoint him; he rose at the gate cheerfully, and barely tipped itwith one hind foot as he cleared it. Wally fancied there was somethingof apology in the little shake of his head as he galloped on. 

"If I'd time to take you back over that you wouldn't lay a toe on itagain, I believe. Never mind, there's sure to be another. "

There was, and the chestnut flew it with never a touch. Maclennan'spaddocks were wide and well cleared--such galloping ground as Wallydared not waste--and he took full advantage of them, leaving one afteranother behind swiftly, to the beat of Shannon's sweeping stride. Fenceafter fence the chestnut cleared, taking them cleanly, with his keenears pricked; never faltering or flagging as he galloped. Wally sat himlightly, leaning forward to ease him, cheering him on with voice andtouch. Before him the cloud grew dense and yet more dense; he could feelits hot breath now, although a bush-covered paddock ahead blocked thefire itself from his immediate view. He had to choose between pickinghis way through the trees or galloping round them; and chose the latter, since Shannon showed no sign of fatigue. He put the last wire fencebehind him with a sigh of relief. A small farm with easy enough fencesremained to be crossed, and then he swung round the timber at top speed. Once round it, he should come within view of the Rainhams' house. 

He came into the open country, and pulled up with a shout of dismay. Before him was the long line of timber marking the creek, but betweenlay nothing but a rolling cloud of smoke, lit with flashes of flame. Ahot gust of wind blew it aside for a moment, and through it he caughta glimpse of Creek Cottage, burning fiercely. Wally uttered a smotheredgroan, and thrust Shannon forward, over the last fence, and up a littlelane that led near the Rainhams' back gate. 

The paddock was nearly all on fire. It had started somewhere back inthe bush country, and had swept across like a wall, burning everythingbefore it. As Wally reached the gate, it was rolling away across thepaddocks, a sheet of flame, licking up the dry grass; leaving behind itbare and blackened ground, with here and there a fence post, or atree burning, and, in the midst of its track, Creek Cottage wrapped inflames. 

The boy slipped from his saddle and flung Shannon's bridle over thegate-post. Then, as a thought struck him, he turned back and releasedhim, buckling the reins into one stirrup. 

"I don't dare to tie you up, old man, " he said. "The beastly fire mightswing round. Go home, if you like. I can't take you across that hotground. " He gave the chestnut's neck a hasty pat; then, putting one handon the gate, he vaulted it cleanly and ran across the burnt ground. 

The grass was yet smouldering; it broke away under his feet, cracklingand falling into black powder. He ran desperately, not feeling theburning breath of the fire, in blind hope of being able to savesomething. The house itself, he knew, was doomed; no fire-brigade couldhave checked the flames which had laid hold of the flimsy weatherboard. The fire had divided round it, checked a little by Tommy'sflower-garden, which was almost uninjured yet, and by Bob's rows ofgreen vegetables which lay singed and ruined; then, unable to wait, it had swept on its way through the long dry grass, which carried itswiftly forward, leaving the burning cottage and the green garden in themidst of a blackened waste. 

The front verandah, and one side, were yet untouched, nor had the frontrooms caught. Wally raced through the garden and tried the front door. It was locked. He sprang to the nearest window and smashed it with quickblows from a hoe standing near; then, flinging up the sash, dived in. The room was full of smoke, the heat stifling. It was Tommy's room. Hegathered up her little personal belongings from the dressing-table andflung them on the quilt, following them with armfuls of clothes hastilyswept from shelves. A trunk, covered with a bright Navajo blanket, stoodnear the window. He thrust it through to the verandah, and scrambledout after it with the quilt and blankets bundled round the things he hadsaved. Dragging them across the lawn, he thrust them under some greenbushes, and returned for the trunk. 

"I don't believe you'll catch there, " he said, choking. "Wonder if I cantry another room?"

He had opened the door from Tommy's room into the hall, but the rush offlame and smoke were so appalling that he had to shut it again quickly, realizing that the draught only helped the fire. To break in by anotherwindow was the only way. He smashed his way in to the other frontroom, and hurriedly gathered up all he could. There was no time to saveanything heavy. His quick mind guided him to the things he knew Bob andTommy valued most--things that had been Aunt Margaret's in the past, that spoke of their old happy life in France. He spread an embroideredcloth on the floor and pitched his treasure trove into it--workingfeverishly, choking and gasping, until the flames began to cracklethrough the wall, and the ceiling above him split across. Then heplunged through the window, and staggered across the lawn with hisburden--falling beside it at last, spent and breathless, his throatparched with smoke, and his eyes almost sightless. But he picked himselfup presently and went back. All the rooms were blazing now. The sideverandah had not yet caught, and on it he saw an old oaken chest thatdid double duty as a seat and as a wardrobe for Bob's spare clothes. Thesight brought fresh energy back to Wally. 

"By Jove, there's old Bob's box!" he uttered. "I'll have to get that. "

He dragged it across the verandah and on to the path. It was cruellyheavy. He had to stop and rest again and again; but still he struggledon, a few yards at a time, until it, too, was in comparative safety. Then there was nothing else that he could do but sit on the grass andwatch the gay little home that they had all loved as it fell into ruins. The flames made mercifully short work of it; they roared and crackledand spat wreathing fiery tongues round the chimneys and up and downthe verandah posts; shooting out of the broken windows and turning thewhite-painted iron of the roof into a twisted and blackened mass. Itfell in presently with a deafening roar, bringing one chimney with it;and soon all that Wally had to look at was a smouldering heap of coals, in the midst of which one chimney stood, tottering and solitary, with the kitchen stove a glowing mass of red-hot iron, and strangelycontorted masses of metal that once were beds. The boy uttered a groan. 

"And they were so proud of it, " he said. "Poor souls--how are they goingto stick it?"

He got up presently and made his way round to the back. All the shedsand buildings were burned; he turned with a shudder from where Bob'sbeloved Kelpie had died at his post chained in helplessness. The metalparts of the buggy, writhed into knots and tangles, lay in the ashes ofthe big shed; beyond, the pigsty smouldered. 

"They've gone, too, I suppose, " Wally said. "By George, where are allhis stock? They can't all be burned, surely. "

There was nothing visible in the bare, black paddocks. He cast a wildlook round, and then made for the creek at a staggering run. The firehad died away for lack of material as it neared the banks, for greatwillows overhung them, a camping-ground for the stock all through thesummer heat, and the ground was always beaten hard and bare. Wallyuttered a shout of relief as he came to the trees. Below in the wide, shallow pools, all the stock had taken refuge--carthorses and cows, sheep and pigs, all huddled together, wild-eyed and panting, but safe. They stared up at Wally, dumbly bewildered. 

"Poor brutes, " said Wally. "Well, you chose a good spot, anyhow. I say, what a jolly good thing Bob let his pigs out. Poor old chap--he'snot broke yet. " He leaned against the gnarled trunk of a willow for amoment. "Well, I suppose I'd better get up to the gate and tell them--itwon't do for Tommy to come on the ruins all of a sudden. "

But he realized, as he made his slow way up from the creek, that he wastoo late. There was a little knot of horses beside the garden gate. Hiseye caught the light linen habit coats that Tommy and Norah wore. Theywere looking silently at the blackened heap of ashes, with the totteringchimney standing gaunt in its midst, Bob's face grey under its coatingof smoky dust. Norah was holding Tommy's hand tightly. They did not hearWally as he came slowly across the black powder that had been grass. 

"I suppose the stock have gone, too, " Bob said heavily. 

"No, they haven't, old man, " Wally said. "I believe every head is safe;they're in the creek. "

They turned sharply, and cried out at the sight of him--blackened andragged, his eyes red-rimmed in his grimy face, his hands, cut by thebroken window glass, smeared with dried blood. His coat and shirt, burntin a score of places, hung in singed fragments round him. There weregreat holes burnt in his panama hat, even in his riding breeches. Jimflung himself from his horse, and ran to him. 

"Wal, old man! Are you hurt?"

"Not me, " said Wally briefly. "Only a bit singed. I say, you two, youdon't know how sorry I am. Tommy, I wish I could have got here in time. "

"You seem to have got here in time to try, anyhow, " said Tommy, and herlip trembled. "Are you sure you're not hurt, Wally?" She slipped fromher saddle, and came to him. "Were you in the fire?"

"No, I'm truly all right, " Wally assured her. He suddenly realized thathe had not known how tired he was; something in his head began to whirlround, and a darkness came before his aching eyes. He felt Jim catchhim; and then he was sitting on the ground, propped against the fence, and blinking up at them all, while indignantly assuring them that he hadnever been better. 

"Did you meet the fire? It was away from here before I got here. "

"It crossed the road in front of us, " Mr. Linton said. "There were agood many men about by that time--we got it stopped before it reachedElston's. " His pitying eyes went back to the brother and sister. Anxietyfor Wally had drawn them from their own disaster for a moment; now theyhad moved away together, and stood looking at the ashes of their home, where so many hopes were ashes, too. David Linton went over to them, andput a hand on a shoulder of each. 

"You're not to be down-hearted, " he said firmly. "It's bad enough, andbitter enough--but it might be worse. The stock are safe, and the landis there--one good shower will turn the paddocks green again. Why, there's even most of your garden left, Tommy. And we'll build the houseand sheds better than before. "

"You're jolly good, Mr. Linton, " Bob said, with dry lips. "But we oweyou enough already. "

"If you talk that sort of nonsense, I'll be really annoyed, " DavidLinton said. "Why, hard luck comes to all of us--we got burned outourselves once, didn't we, Norah?"

"Rather--and had to live in tents, " said Norah. "No, you'll have to comeback to us at Billabong until we build up the cottage again--oh, and, Tommy darling, I've been lonesome for you!" She put a hand on Bob's arm. "You won't worry, Bob? One bit of bad luck isn't going to beat you!"

"I suppose it won't, " Bob said slowly. "There's the insurance money, anyhow. But it was the jolliest little home--and our very own. And I wasso jolly proud of being independent. "

"Well, you're that still, " Jim said. "This is a country where everybodyhelps everybody else--because you and Tommy come to stay with us, andrun your stock for a while on Billabong until your own grass grows, thatisn't going to make you less independent. Wouldn't you do the same forus, if we were in the same box?"

"That goes without saying--and I'm as grateful as I can be, " Bob said. "But the cases are different. I'm deep enough in your debt, as it is. I--" His lip quivered, and he turned away, staring at the ruins. 

"I don't see any good arguing about it, at all events, " said Norah, practically. "We're all hot and tired, and I vote we just get home andhave tea. We'll all feel better after a tub, and then we can begin tomake plans. Come on, Tommy dear, it's just lovely to think we're goingto have you. "

Bob stood with one hand on the scorched gate. 

"I wish I could have got here in time to get out a few things, " hemuttered. 

"Oh, I did that, " said Wally, brightening. "I forgot, in the shock offinding all Noah's Ark turned out in the creek. Come along, Tommy, andsee my little lot of salvage!"

He dragged himself up from the ground and seized Tommy's hand. Theytrooped across the lawn. 

"I saved the cuckoo clock and that set of Swiss bears, " said Wally. "Andlots of oddments from goodness knows where--the sort of thing you can'tbuy in Cunjee. I expect I've hauled out all the things you wouldn't havesaved, Tommy, but you'll just have to let me down lightly--I'd have madea shot for the beloved cake tins, only I hadn't time. "

"Oh, Wally, you dear old idiot, " said Tommy. "And that's how you nearlykilled yourself. " They came in sight of Wally's heap of loot, and shestopped in amazement. 

"Bob--just look!"

"By Jupiter!" said Bob, "you saved my old box! You old brick. How didyou manage it? Why, it weighs a ton!"

Tommy was on her knees by the bundles. "Look!" she said. "Look, Bobby!My silver things--and all Aunt Margaret's, and my little jewel box. Andmy clothes! How did you do it, Wally?" Suddenly her voice broke. She puther head down on the bundle in a passion of sobs. 

"That's the best thing she could do, " said David Linton gently. Heturned to Norah. "Let her cry--and bring her along presently, and we'lltake her home. Come along, boys, we'll get the horses and go and seeWally's Noah's Ark. "

CHAPTER XVI

BUILDING UP AGAIN

It was three months later, and Billabong lay in the peace of anexquisite autumn evening. The orchard showed yellow and bronze againstthe green of the pine trees; here and there oak and elm leaves fluttereddown lazily upon the lawn. The garden flamed with dahlias and asters, amidst which Hogg worked contentedly. And there was utter content uponthe face of David Linton, as he stood on the broad stone steps of hishome, and looked towards the setting sun. Beyond the garden gleamedthe reed-fringed waters of the lagoon; further yet, the broad paddocksstretched away, dotted with feeding Shorthorns. It was the view, of allothers, that he loved--his soul had longed for it during weary years ofexile and war. Now, it seemed that he could never tire of looking at it. 

Brownie came up from the garden, a basket on her arm laden with splendidmauve and pink asters. David Linton strolled across the gravel sweep tomeet her. 

"What, Brownie--taking Miss Norah's job, are you?"

"Well, it ain't 'ardly that, sir, " Brownie answered. "Miss Norah shedone the vases this morning, same as ushul, an' Miss Tommy elpin' her. Only she wouldn't pick these 'ere astors, 'cause they're 'Oggs best, an'she didn't like to 'urt 'im; you see she always remembers that onst theygo into the 'ouse, 'Ogg, 'e don't see 'em no more. An' she do love 'emin the vases. So I just put the matter sensible like to 'Ogg, an', ofcourse, 'e saw reason and give me 'alf; an' I'll 'ave 'em on the tableto-night. Only they've filled every vase in the house already, I believeI'll be druv to puttin' 'em in Mason jars!"

"Miss Norah will love them, no matter what they're in, " said Mr. Linton. "There's no sign of them yet, Brownie--it's nearly time they were home. "

"Well, they meant to 'ave a long day's work fixin' the 'ouse, " saidBrownie comfortably. "Mrs. Archdale druv me over to see them, an' Sarahgave us all afternoon tea--she an' Bill are real toffs in their littlenew cottage there. Sarah ain't indulgin' in any regrets over that fire!And they were all busy as bees. Miss Tommy's room's fixed, an' herlittle sleep-out place off it, and so's Mr. Bob's, an' they were workin'at the drorin'-room; 'omelike it looked with all their nice old thingsin it again. "

"I'm sure it will, " David Linton agreed. "How do you like the new house, Brownie?"

"Why, it's lovely, " said Brownie. "An' a fair treat to work, with allthem new improvements--no corners to the rooms, an' no silly skirtin'boards that'll catch dust, an' the water laid on everywhere, an' the airgas, an' all them other patent fixings. An' so comferable; better thanthe old one, any way you look at it. Miss Tommy's the lucky young ladyto be comin' in for such a place. "

"Well, she deserves it, Brownie. "

"She do, " said Brownie heartily. "Ain't it lovely to see Miss Norah an''er so 'appy together? Our blessed lamb never 'ad a friend like thatbefore, and she needed one--every girl do. "

"Long may it last, that's all I say, " agreed the squatter. "Norah neededher badly, although she didn't know it. And she and her brother are thebest type of immigrants, aren't they?"

"They are that, " said Brownie, "always cheery, an' workin' 'ard, an'takin' the ups and downs sensibly. Now, it was a real nasty knock tofind their nice little 'ome burnt down on New Year's day, but after thefirst shock they never 'ung their lip at all--just bucked in to makegood again. "

She went on her way with her asters, and David Linton walked slowlyacross the lawn and stood looking over the gate, along the track wherehis children would come riding home. Somehow, he found it difficult notto think of them all as his children. Wally had made an attempt to goaway and set up a place for himself, but the idea had been received withsuch amazed horror by the whole household that it had been temporarilyshelved. After all, Wally had more money than was good for him, theresult of having always been an orphan. He could establish himself in aplace at any time if he wished. And meanwhile, he was never idle. DavidLinton had handed over most of the outside management of the big runto Jim and his mate. They worked together as happily as they had playedtogether as boys. There was time for play now, as well; Mr. Linton sawto that. The years that they had left on Flanders fields were not to robthem of their boyhood. 

There had also been time to help the Rainhams--and there again thedistrict had taken a hand. It was not to be imagined that the peoplewho had helped in the first working bee would sit calmly by when sostupendous a piece of bad luck as the New Year fire overtook the justestablished young immigrants; and so there had been several other bees, to replace Bob's burnt fencing, to clear away the ruins of the house andsheds, and, finally, to rebuild for him. There had been long discussionsat Billabong over plans--the first Creek Cottage had taught them muchof what was desirable in the way of a house; so that the second CreekCottage, which rose from the ashes of the old one when kindly rains haddrawn a green mantle over all the blackened farm, was a very decidedimprovement upon the old house, and contained so many modern ideas and"dodges" that the wives and sisters of all the working bees, who helpedto build it, came miles to see it, and went home, in most cases, audiblywishing that they could have a fire. It was illuminating, too, to theworking bees, to see how Bob and the Billabong men planned for thecomfort of the women who were to run the house, and for its easyworking; so that presently a wave of labour-saving devices swept throughthe Cunjee district in imitation, and wives who had always carriedbuckets of water found taps conveniently placed where they wereneeded, and sinks and draining racks built to ease the dreary roundof dish-washing, and air-gas plants established to supersede the oldkerosene lamps. After which the district was very much astonished thatit had not done it before. 

The cottage was finished now, and nearly ready for its occupants; Bill, Sarah and the baby had been installed for some time in a neat littletwo-roomed place with a side verandah, a short distance from the mainbuilding. Home-made furniture, even more ambitious than the first built, had been erected, and a fresh supply of household goods bought duringan exciting week in Melbourne, where Mr. Linton had taken them all--all, that is, but Bob, who had steadfastly declined to go away and play whenother people were helping him. So Bob had remained at his post, givingTommy a free hand as to shopping; a freedom cautiously used by Tommy, but supplemented by the others with many gifts, both useful and idiotic. Tommy had an abiding affection for the idiotic efforts. 

She had spent so much time in the saddle that she now rode like an oldhand; the brown-faced girl who came up the paddock presently with thecheery band of workers was very different to the pink and white "littleMiss Immigrant" of eight months before. She rode Jim's big favourite, Garryowen, who, although years had added wisdom to him, was alwaysimpatient when nearly home; he was reefing and pulling, as they sweptup at a hand gallop, but Tommy held him easily, and pulled up near Mr. Linton, laughing. He looked at them with grave content. 

"I began to think you meant me to have tea alone, " he said. "Have theybeen doing any work, Bob, or couldn't you keep them in hand at all?"

"Oh, they've been working, " Bob answered. "I told Sarah not to give themany afternoon tea if they didn't, and it acted like a charm. "

"You to talk!" said Norah, with tilted nose. "They said they'd samplethe new deck chairs, dad, and it took them about an hour to make sure ifthey liked them--they just smoked while Tommy and I toiled. "

"Well, you'd only have been annoyed with us if we hadn't done thesampling properly, and had grumbled afterwards, " said Wally. "I'm alwaystrying to teach you to be thorough, Norah. Of course, they say they workall the time, sir--but when they disappear into Tommy's room there's anawful lot of talking. "

"There would be something wrong with them if there weren't, " said thesquatter sagely. "And I have no doubt there yet remains much awaitingtheir expert supervision in Tommy's room. " Whereat Tommy and Norahbeamed at him, and commended him as a person of understanding, whileWally remarked feelingly to Bob that there was no chance of justicewhere those two females were concerned. At this point Jim observed thatthe conversation showed signs of degenerating into a brawl, and that, in any case, it was time the horses were let go. They trotted off to thestables, a light-hearted body. 

Tommy slipped her arm into Bob's as they went upstairs to dress. 

"Come into my room and talk for a moment. "

He came in and sat down in a low chair by the window. 

"Your quarters at the new place won't be as big as this, old girl. "

"They'll be bigger, for it will all be ours, " rejoined Tommy promptly. "Who wants a big room, anyway? I don't. Bobby, I'd be hard to please ifI wanted more than I've got. "

"You're always satisfied, " he said. "There never was anything easierthan pleasing you, old Tommy. "

"Life's all so good, now, " she said. "No hideous anxiety about you--noLancaster Gate--no she-dragon. Only peace, and independence, and thework we like. Aren't you satisfied, Bob?"

"I'd like to be really independent, " he said slowly. "Our amount ofdebt isn't heavy, of course, and it doesn't cause real anxiety, with Mr. Linton guaranteeing us to the bank--"

"And as we had to build again, it was worth while to improve the houseand make it just what we wanted, " Tommy added. "We'll pay the debt off, Bob. Mr. Linton assures me that with ordinary seasons we should easilydo it. "

"I know, and I'm not anxious, " Bob said. "Only I'll be glad when it'sdone; debt, even such an easy debt as this, gives me the creeps. And Iwant to feel we stand on our own feet. "

"And not on the Lintons'!" said Tommy, laughing. "I quite agree--thoughit's amazing to see how little they seem to mind our weight. Was thereever such luck as meeting them, Bob?"

"Never, " he agreed. "We'd have been wage-earners still, or strugglinglittle cocky farmers at the best, but for that letter of GeneralHarran's--though, I think more was due to the way you butted into theirtaxi!"

"I believe it was, " laughed Tommy. "It was the sort of thing to appealto the Lintons--it wouldn't to everybody. But the letter was behind it, saying what a worthy young man you were!"

"Well, when you start calling me such a thing as 'worthy, ' it's time Ileft and got dressed for tea, " said her brother, rising slowly. "Englishmail ought to be in, by the way; I'm wondering what old Mr. M'Clintonwill say when he hears we were burned out in our first season. "

"He'll wish he'd sent us to the snows of Canada, where such thingsdon't happen on New Year's day, " Tommy said. "Still, he ought not to beanxious about us--Mr. Linton wrote and told him our position was quitesound. "

"Oh, I don't think he'll worry greatly, " said Bob. "I must hurry, oldgirl, or I'll be late--and I want a tub before tea. "

The boys came down in flannels, ready for a game of tennis after tea;and Bob and Wally were just leaving the court after a stoutly-contestedset, when black Billy brought the mail-bag across the lawn to Mr. Linton. The squatter unlocked it and sorted out the letters quickly. 

"Nothing for you, Tommy; two for Norah; three for Bob, and bundles forWally and Jim. Papers beyond counting, and parcels you girls can dealwith. " He gathered up a package of his own letters. "Chiefly stockand station documents--though, I see, there's a letter from your aunt, Norah; I expect she's anxious to know when I'm going to cease bringingyou up like a boy, and send you to Melbourne to be a perfect lady. "

"Tell her, never, " said Norah lazily. "I don't see any spare timeahead--not enough to make me into a lady after Aunt Winifred's pattern. Cecil is much more lady-like than I am. "

"He always was, " Jim said. "Years ago we used to wonder that he didn'ttake to wool-work, and I expect he'll do it yet. Even serving in the wardidn't keep Cecil from manicuring his nails--he gets a polish on themthat beats anything I ever saw. "

"Never mind--he's got a limp, " said Norah, in whose eyes that legacy ofthe war covered a multitude of sins. 

"Well, he has. But he even limps in a lady-like way, " grinned Jim. "Andhe has no time for Wal and me. He told me that he was surprised thatfive years of France and England hadn't made us less Australian. "

"It's a matter of regret to us all, " said Norah placidly. "We hoped forgreat things when you came out--more attention to polite conversation, and a passion for top-hats, and--" At which point further eloquence waschecked by a cushion placed gently, but firmly, by a brotherly hand onher face, and so she subsided, with a gurgle of laughter, into the cooldepths of the buffalo grass where they were all lying. 

"Oh, by Jove!" said Bob suddenly. He looked at them, and finally atTommy, his eyes dancing. 

"What's up, old man?" Jim asked. "Not your stepmother coming out?"

"England couldn't spare her, " Bob said. "But the sky has fallen, for allthat. Just listen to old M'Clinton. 

"'. . . It was with deep regret that I learned from you and from Mr. Linton of the calamity which had befallen you on New Year's day. Suchdisasters seem common in Australia, like blizzards in Canada, and Ipresume every settler is liable to them. In your case your loss, being partly covered by insurance, will not, Mr. Linton assures me, be crushing, although it seems to me very severe. To have your initialendeavours, too, handicapped by so calamitous an occurrence would haveexcused despondency, but--'"

"Hasn't he a lovely style?" chuckled Wally, as the reader paused to turnover. 

"'But Mr. Linton assures me that you and your sister are facing thesituation with calmness and courage. ' Did you know you were calmlycourageous, Tommy?"

"I am not, " said Tommy. "I am courageously calm. Go on, Bobby--mycalmness will waver if you don't get to the point. Where does the skyfall?"

"Half a second. 'Further, I am immensely interested to learn from Mr. Linton, who appears to be the kindest of benefactors'--that's you, sir--'that the people of the district, who have already helped you soremarkably by a working bee, are so much in sympathy with you both thatthey intend again lending you their assistance over rebuilding yourhouse. This shows me, even without Mr. Linton's letter, that you haveearned their esteem and regard. Nevertheless, I estimate that you cannotfail to be at some monetary embarrassment, and this I am luckily ableto ease for you. Certain rubber investments of your late aunt's haverecently risen in value, after the long period of depression due tothe war; and I deemed it prudent to sell them while their price in themarket was high. The terms of your aunt's will enable me to reinvestthis money, amounting to a little over nine hundred pounds, for you, or, at my discretion, to hand it over to you; and such is the confidenceI repose in you, after Mr. Linton's letter, that I feel justified inremitting you the money, to use as you think best. I presume that willbe in the reduction of your liabilities. I should like to think you hadthe benefit of Mr. Linton's advice in the matter. ' Shall I, sir?"

"I never listened to such language, " returned the squatter. "I shouldlike it read three times a day, before meals. But if it's my advice youwant, Bob, you can have it. Meanwhile, I'm very glad for you to havesuch a windfall, my boy. "

Tommy and Norah had collapsed on each other's shoulders, speechless. 

"Joy never kills, they say, " said Wally, regarding them anxiously. "Butit's been known to turn the brain, when the brain doesn't happen to bestrong. Will we turn the hose on them, Jim?"

"Sit on him, Bob, " came faintly from Norah. 

"I will--with the weight of nine hundred pounds!" said Bob--and did so. 

"Get off, you bloated capitalist, " said Wally, struggling. He succeededin dislodging him, with a mighty effort. "You're just purse-proud, that's what's the matter with you. What'll you do with it, Bobby--goracing? Or buy an aeroplane?"

"Get out of debt, " said Bob, sitting up with rumpled hair and a facelike a happy child's. "And there'll be a bit over to play with. Whatshall we put it into, Tommy? Want any pretty things?"

"Just merino sheep, " said Tommy. 

THE END