Captain Jim

by Mary Grant Bruce

  CHAPTER XIX

  REVEILLE

  It was not yet dawn when David Linton, fully dressed, came into thecottage garden. The door stood open, and he kicked off his shoes andcrept into the house.

  Eva sat on the floor of the passage with her head in her hands. Shelooked up with a start as the big man came in, and scrambled to herfeet; a queer dishevelled figure with her tousled head and crumpledcap and apron. A wave of dismay swept over Mr. Linton.

  "Is he----?" he whispered, and stopped.

  The girl beckoned him into the sitting-room.

  "'E's never stirred all night," she whispered. "I dunno if 'e isn'tdead; I never see any one lie so still. The nurse wouldn't sit therelike a wooden image if 'e was dead, would she, sir?"

  "Surely not," said David Linton. "Where is Miss Norah?"

  "Kneelin' alongside of 'im, same like she was when you was here. Sheain't never stirred, neither. An' I'll bet a dollar she must bestiff!"

  "And Mrs. Hunt?"

  "She's in there, wiv 'em. She 'ad a little sleep; not much. No one'ssaid one word in this 'ouse all night."

  "Why didn't you go to bed?" David Linton said, looking down at thepinched old face and the stooping shoulders. He had never noticed Evavery much; now he felt a sudden wave of pity for the little Londonservant. She loved Geoffrey too in her queer way.

  "Not me!" said Eva defiantly. "And 'im very near dyin'. I beenboilin' the kettle every hour or so, but none of 'em came out for tea.Will _you_ 'ave a cup, sir?"

  A refusal was on his lips, but he changed his mind.

  "Thank you," he said gently. "And have one yourself, Eva."

  "My word, I'll be glad of it," she said. "It's bitter cold, sittin'out there." She tip-toed off to the kitchen. Mr. Linton stood,hesitating, for a moment, and then went along the passage. A screenblocked Geoffrey's doorway, and he peeped over it.

  As he did so, Mrs. Hunt moved to the end of the bed. Geoffrey layexactly as he had been on the night before; so utterly still that itwas impossible to say whether he were alive or dead. Norah crouchedbeside him, her hand still against his face.

  Then, very slowly, Geoffrey turned, and opened his eyes.

  "Mother!" he said. "Mother, I'm so thirsty!"

  Mrs. Hunt was beside him as his eyelids had lifted. The nurse, movingswiftly, handed her a little cup.

  "Drink this, sweetheart." The mother raised his head, and Geoffreydrank eagerly.

  "That's awful nice," he said. "May I have some more?"

  They gave him more, and put him back on the pillow. He looked atNorah, who knelt by him silently.

  "Wake up, old Norah--it's Reveille!" he said.

  She smiled at him, and put her face on his, but she did not stir.Suddenly the nurse saw Mr. Linton, and beckoned to him.

  "Carry her--she can't move."

  Norah felt her father's arm about her.

  "Hold round my neck, dear," he said.

  The nurse was at her other side. They raised her slowly, while sheclenched her teeth to keep back any sound that should tell of theagony of moving--still smiling with her eyes on Geoffrey's sleepyface. Then, suddenly, she grew limp in her father's arm.

  "Fainted," murmured the nurse. "And a very good thing." She put herarm round her, and they carried her out between them, and put her on asofa.

  "I must go back to Geoffrey," the nurse said. "Rub her--rub her kneeshard, before she comes to. It's going to hurt her, poor child!" Shehurried away.

  Geoffrey was lying quietly, his mother's head close to him. The nurseput her hand on his brow.

  "Nice and cool," she said. "You're a very good boy, Geoff; we'llthink about some breakfast for you presently." Mrs. Hunt raised herwhite face, and the nurse's professional calmness wavered a little.She patted her shoulder.

  "There--there, my dear!" she said. "He's going to do very well.Don't you worry. He'll be teaching me to ride that pony before weknow where we are." She busied herself about the boy with defttouches. "Now just keep very quiet--put Mother to sleep, if you like,for she's a tired old mother." She hastened back to Norah.

  "Is she all right?" David Linton's voice was sharp with anxiety. "Shehas never moved."

  "The best thing for her," said the nurse, putting him aside andbeginning to massage this new patient. "If I can rub some of thestiffness away before she becomes conscious it will save her a lot.Run away, there's a dear man, and tell that poor soul in the kitchenthat the child is all right."

  "He will live?"

  "Rather! That sleep has taken every trace of the fever away. He'sweak, of course, but we can deal with that when there's notemperature. Tell Eva to make tea--lots of it. We all want it."

  "Thus it was that presently might have been seen the astoundingspectacle of a grizzled Australian squatter and a little Cockneyserving-maid holding each other's hands in a back kitchen.

  "I knew it was orright when I 'eard you comin' down the 'all," saidEva tearfully. "No one's 'ad that sort of a step in this 'ouse sinceMaster Geoff went sick. The dear lamb! Won't it be 'evinly to see'is muddy boot-marks on me clean floor agin! An' him comin' to mekitching window an' askin' me for grub! I'll 'ave tea in a jiffy,sir. An' please 'scuse me for ketchin' old of you like that, but I'd'ave bust if I 'adn't 'eld on to somefink!"

  Geoffrey dropped off to sleep again, presently, and Mrs. Hunt came toNorah, who was conscious, and extremely stiff, but otherwise too happyto care for aches and pains. They did not speak at first, those twohad gone down to the borderland of Death to bring back little,wandering feet; only they looked at each other, and clung together,still trembling, though only the shadow of fear remained.

  After that Geoffrey mended rapidly, and, having been saintlike whenvery ill, became just an ordinary little sinner in his convalescence,and taxed every one's patience to keep him amused. Alison andMichael, who were anxiously watched for developing symptoms, refusedto develop anything at all, remaining in the rudest health; so thatthey were presently given the run of all Homewood, and assistedgreatly in preventing any of the Tired People from feeling dull.

  Norah remained at the cottage, which was placed strictly inquarantine, and played with Geoffrey through the slow days of weaknessthat the little fellow found so hard to understand. Aids toconvalescence came from every quarter. Major Hunt, unable to leaveFrance, sent parcels of such toys and books as could still be boughtin half-ruined towns. Wally, who had been given four days' leave inParis--which bored him to death--sent truly amazing packages, and theTired People vied with David Linton in ransacking London for gifts forthe sick-room. Geoffrey thought them all very kind, and would havegiven everything for one hour on Brecon beside Mr. Linton.

  "You'll be able to ride soon, old chap," Norah said, on his firstafternoon out of bed.

  "Will I?" The boy looked scornfully at his thin legs. "Look atthem--they're like silly sticks!"

  "Yes, but Brecon won't mind that. And they'll get quite fat again.Well, not fat--" as Geoffrey showed symptoms of horror--"but hard andfit, like they were before. Quite useful."

  "I do hope so," Geoffrey said. "I want them to be all right beforeFather comes--and Wally. Will Wally come soon, do you think?"

  "I'm afraid not: you see, he has been to Paris. There's hardly anyleave to England now."

  "'Praps leave will be open by Christmas," Geoffrey suggestedhopefully. "Wouldn't it be a lovely Christmas if Father and Wallyboth came?"

  "Wouldn't it just?" Norah smiled at him; but the smile faded in amoment, and she walked to the window and stood looking out. Christmashad always been such a perfect time in their lives: she looked back toyears when it had always meant a season of welcoming Jim back; whenevery day for weeks beforehand had been gay with preparations for hisreturn from school. Jim would arrive with his trunks bulging withsurprises for Christmas morning; Wally would be with him, both keenand eager for every detail in the life of the homestead, just as readyto work as to play. All Billabong, from the Chinese gardener to Mr.Linton,
hummed with the joy of their coming. Now, for the first time,Christmas would bring them nothing of Jim.

  She felt suddenly old and tired; and the feeling grew in the weeksthat followed, while Geoffrey gradually came back to strength andmerriment, and the cottage, after a strenuous period of disinfecting,emerged from the ban of quarantine. Alison and Michael had arapturous reunion with their mother and Geoffrey, and Homewood grewstrangely quiet without the patter of their feet. Norah returned toher post as housekeeper, to find little to do; the house seemed to runon oiled wheels, and Miss de Lisle and the servants united in tryingto save her trouble.

  "I dunno is it the fever she have on her," said Katty in the kitchenone evening. "She's that quiet and pale-looking you wouldn't know herfor the same gerrl."

  "Oh, there's no fear of fever now," said Miss de Lisle.

  "Well, she is not right. Is it fretting she is, after Masther Jim?She was that brave at first, you'd not have said there was any onedead at all."

  "I think she's tired out," said Miss de Lisle. "She has been undergreat strain ever since the news of Mr. Jim came. And she is only achild. She can't go through all that and finish up by nursing a feverpatient--and then avoid paying for it."

  "She cannot, indeed," said Katty. "Why wouldn't the Masther take heraway for a change? Indeed, it's himself looks bad enough these times,as well. We'll have the two of them ill on us if they don't takecare."

  "They might go," said Miss de Lisle thoughtfully. "I'll suggest it toMr. Linton."

  David Linton, indeed, would have done anything to bring back thecolour to Norah's cheeks and the light into her eyes. But when hesuggested going away she shrank from it pitifully.

  "Ah, no, Daddy. I'm quite well, truly."

  "Indeed you're not," he said. "Look at the way you never eatanything!"

  "Oh, I'll eat ever so much," said Norah eagerly. "Only don't go away:we have work here, and we wouldn't know what to do with ourselvesanywhere else. Perhaps some time, when Wally comes home, if he caresto go we might think about it. But not now, Daddy." She hesitated."Unless, of course, you want to very much."

  "Not unless you do," he said. "Only get well, my girl."

  "I'm quite all right," protested Norah. "It was only Geoff's illnessthat made me a bit slack. And we've had a busy summer, haven't we? Ithink our little war-job hasn't turned out too badly, Dad."

  "Not too badly at all--if it hasn't been too much for my housekeeper,"he said, looking at her keenly. "Remember, I won't have her knockedup."

  "I won't be, Daddy dear--I promise," Norah said.

  She made a brave effort to keep his mind at ease as the days went on;riding and walking with him, forcing herself to sing as she went aboutthe house--she had her reward in the look in the silent man's eyeswhen he first heard a song on her lips--and entering with a goodimitation of her old energy into the plans for the next year on thefarm. But it was all imitation, and in his heart David Linton knewit. The old Norah was gone. He could only pity her with all his bigheart, and help her in her struggle--knowing well that it was for hissake. In his mind he began to plan their return to Australia, in thehope that Billabong would prove a tonic to her tired mind and body.And yet--how could they face Billabong, without Jim?

  He came out on the terrace one evening with a letter in his hand.

  "Norah," he said. "I've good news for you--Wally is coming home."

  "Is he, Dad? On leave?"

  "Well--he has been wounded, but not seriously. They have been nursinghim in a hospital at Boulogne and he writes that he is better, but heis to have a fortnight's leave."

  "It will be lovely to have him," Norah said. "May I see the letter,Dad?"

  "Of course." He gave it to her. "Poor old Wally! We must give him agood time, Norah."

  "It's a pity Harry's leave didn't happen at the same time," saidNorah. "However, Phil will be a mate for him; they like each otherawfully."

  "Yes," agreed her father. "Still, I don't think Wally wants any othermate when you are about."

  "They were always astonishingly good in the way they overlooked my badtaste in being a girl!" said Norah, with a laugh. She was running hereye over the letter. "Oh--hit in the shoulder. I do hope it wasn't avery painful wound--poor old boy. I wonder will he be able to ride,Dad?"

  "He says he's very well. But then, he would," Mr. Linton said."Since we first knew him Wally would never admit so much as afinger-ache if he could possibly avoid it. I expect he'll ride ifit's humanly possible!"

  Allenby came out.

  "Hawkins would like to see you, sir."

  "Very well," said his master. "By the way, Allenby, Mr. Wally iscoming back on leave."

  The butler's face brightened.

  "Is he indeed, sir! That's good news."

  "Yes--he has been wounded, but he's all right."

  "Miss de Lisle will certainly invent a new dish in his honour, sir,"said Allenby, laughing. "Is he coming soon?"

  "This week, he says. Well, I mustn't keep Hawkins waiting." He wentinto the house, with Allenby at his heels. It was evident that thekitchen would hear the news as quickly as the ex-sergeant could getthere.

  Norah read the letter over again, slowly, and folded it up. Then sheturned from the house, and went slowly across the lawn. At the sweepof the drive there was a path that made a short cut across the park toa stile, and her feet turned into it half-unconsciously.

  The dull apathy that had clogged her brain for weeks was suddenlygone. She felt no pleasure in the prospect that would once have beenso joyful, of seeing Wally. Instead her whole being was seething witha wild revolt. Wally's coming had always meant Jim. Now he wouldcome alone, and Jim could never come again.

  "It isn't fair!" she said to herself, over and over. "It isn't fair!"

  She came to the stile, and paused, looking over it into a quiet lane.All her passionate hunger for Jim rose within her, choking her. Shehad kept him close to her at first; lately he had slipped away so thatshe had no longer the dear comfort of his unseen presence that hadhelped her through the summer. And she wanted him--wanted him. Hertired mind and body cried for him; always chum and mate and brother inone. She put her head down on the railing with a dry sob.

  A quick step brushed through the crisp leaves carpeting the lane. Shelooked up. A man in rough clothes was coming towards her.

  Norah drew back, wishing she had brought the dogs with her; the placewas lonely, and the evening was closing in. She turned to go; and asshe did so the man broke into a clear whistle that made her pause,catching her breath. It was the marching tune of Jim's regiment; butbeyond the tune itself there was something familiar in thewhistle--something that brought her back to the stile, panting,catching at the rail with her hands. Was there any one else in theworld with that whistle--with that long, free stride?

  He came nearer, and saw her for the first time--a white-faced girl whostood and stared at him with eyes that dared not believe--with lipsthat tried to speak his name, and could not. It was Jim who sobbed ashe spoke.

  "Norah! Norah!"

  He flung himself over the stile and caught her to him.

  "Old mate!" he said. "Dear little old mate!"

  They clung together like children. Presently Norah put up her hand,feeling the rough serge of his coat.

  "It isn't a dream," she said. "Tell me it isn't, Jimmy-boy. Don'tlet me wake up."

  Jim's laugh was very tender.

  "I'm no dream," he said. "All these months have been the dream--andyou can wake up now."

  She shivered, putting her face against him.

  "Oh--it's been so long!"

  Then, suddenly, she caught his hand.

  "Come!" she said breathlessly. "Come quickly--to Dad!"

  They ran across the park, hand in hand. Near the house Jim paused.

  "I say, old chap, we can't take him by surprise," he said. "I wasgoing to sneak in by the back door, and get hold of Miss de Lisle andAllenby, to tell you. Hadn't you bett
er go and prepare him a bit?"

  "Yes, of course," Norah said. "There's a light in the study: he'salways there at this time. Come in and I'll hide you in Allenby'spantry until I ring."

  They crept in by a side door, and immediately ran into the butler.

  "How are you, Allenby?" Jim inquired pleasantly.

  Allenby staggered back.

  "It's Mr. Jim!" he gasped, turning white.

  "It is," said Jim, laughing. He found the butler's hand, and shookit. Norah left them, and went swiftly to her father's study. Sheopened the door softly.

  David Linton was sitting in a big armchair by the fire, bendingforward and looking into the red coals. The light fell on his face,and showed it old and sad with a depth of sadness that even Norah hadhardly seen. He raised his head as the door opened.

  "Hallo, my girl," he said, forcing a smile. "I was just beginning towonder where you were."

  "I went across the park," Norah said nervously. Something in hervoice made her father look sharply at her.

  "Is anything the matter, Norah?"

  "No," she said quickly. She came close to him and put her hand on hisshoulder.

  "You look as if you had seen a ghost," he said. "What is it, Norah?"

  "I--I thought I had, too," she stammered. "But it was better than aghost. Daddy--Daddy!" she broke down, clinging to him, laughing andcrying.

  "What is it?" cried David Linton. "For God's sake tell me, Norah!"He sprang to his feet, shaking.

  "He's here," she said. "He isn't dead." Suddenly she broke from himand ran to the bell. "Jim," she said; "Jim has come back to us,Daddy."

  The door was flung open, and Jim came in, with great strides.

  "Dad!"

  "My boy!" said his father. They gripped each other's hands; and Norahclung to them both, and sobbed and laughed all at once.

  "Let me sit down, children," said David Linton presently; and they sawthat he was trembling. "I'm getting an old man, Jim; I didn't knowhow old I was, until we lost you."

  "You couldn't get old if you tried," said Jim proudly. "And you can'tlose me either--can he, Norah?" They drew together again; it seemedcomplete happiness just to touch each other--not to speak; to betogether. Afterwards there would be explanations; but they seemed thelast thing that mattered now.

  They did not hear the hoot of a motor in the drive or a ring at thefront door. Allenby answered it, and admitted a tall subaltern.

  "Mr. Wally!"

  "Evening, Allenby," said Wally. "I believe I'm a bit ahead of time--Ididn't expect to get here so soon. Do you think they'll have a cornerfor me?"

  Allenby laughed--a rather quavering laugh.

  "I think you'll always find your room ready, sir," he said. "You--Isuppose you 'aven't 'eard our good news, sir?"

  "I never hear good news," said Wally shortly. "What is it?"

  Allenby eyed him doubtfully.

  "I don't know as I oughtn't to break it to you a bit, sir," he said."You can't be over-strong yet, and you wounded, and all; and never'aving rightly got over losing Mr. Jim, and----"

  Wally shuddered.

  "For Heaven's sake, man, stop breaking it gently!" he said. "What isit?" In his voice was the crisp tone of the officer; and theex-sergeant came to attention smartly.

  "It's Mr. Jim, sir," he said. "'E's 'ome."

  For a long moment Wally stared at him.

  "You're not mad, I suppose?" he said slowly. "Or perhaps I am. Doyou mean----"

  "Them 'Uns couldn't kill him, sir!" Allenby's voice rose on a note oftriumph. "Let me take your coat, sir--'e's in the study. And youcoming just puts the top on everything, sir!"

  He reached up for Wally's coat. But the boy broke from him and ranblindly to the study, bursting in upon the group by the fire. Therehe stopped dead, and stared at them.

  "Old chap!" said Jim. He sprang to him, and flung an arm round hisshoulders. Then he gave a great sigh of utter contentment, and echoedAllenby unconsciously.

  "Well, if that doesn't make everything just perfect!" he said.

  CHAPTER XX

  ALL CLEAR

  "Kiddie, are you awake?"

  "Come in, Jimmy."

  Norah sat up in bed and felt for the electric switch. The room spranginto light as Jim came in.

  "I had to come and bring your stocking," he said. "Merry Christmas,little chap."

  "Merry Christmas, Jimmy dear." Norah looked at the bulging stockingon her bed, and broke into laughter. "And you a full-blown Captain!Oh, Jimmy, are you ever going to grow up?"

  "I trust not," said Jim comfortably--"if it means getting any biggerthan I am. But you're not, either, so it doesn't matter. Do youremember all the Christmases at Billabong when I had to bring you yourstocking?"

  "Do I remember!" echoed Norah scornfully. "But at Billabong it wasdaylight at four o'clock in the morning, and extremely hot--probablywith a bush-fire or two thrown in. You'll be frozen to death here.Turn on the electric stove, and we'll be comfy."

  "That's a brain-wave," said Jim, complying. "I must admit I prefer anopen fireplace and three-foot logs--but in a hurry those littlecontraptions of stoves are handy. Hold on now--I'll get you somethingto put over your shoulders."

  "There's a woolly jacket over there," Norah said. "Let me have myproperty--I'm excited." She possessed herself of the stocking andfished for its contents. "Chocolates!--and in war-time! Aren't youashamed?"

  "Not much," said Jim calmly, extracting a huge chocolate from the box."I lived on swede turnips for six weeks, so I think the familydeserves a few extras. Fish some more."

  Norah obeyed, and brought to light articles of a varied nature; a pairof silk stockings, a book on _Housekeeping as a Science_, a largeturnip, artistically carved, a box of French candied fruit, a mob-capand a pair of housemaids' gloves, and, lastly, the cap of a shell,neatly made into a pin-tray.

  "I did that in camp in Germany," said Jim. "And I swore I'd put itinto your Christmas stocking. Which I have done."

  "Bless you," said Norah. "I would rather lose a good many of mypossessions than that." They smiled at each other; and, being anundemonstrative pair, the smile was a caress.

  "Isn't this going to be a Christmas!" Norah said. "I've been lyingawake for ever so long, trying to realize it. You alive again----"

  "I never was dead," said Jim indignantly.

  "It was a horribly good imitation. And Wally here, and even Harry;and Major Hunt home; and Geoff getting stronger every day. And Dadgrown twenty years younger."

  "And you too, I guess--judging by what you looked like the night Icame home."

  "Oh, I've got turned and made up to look like new," said Norah. Shefaltered a little. "Jimmy, I've been saying my prayers--_hard_."

  "I've done that, too," said Jim. There was a long, contented silence.

  "And somehow, now, I know you'll be all right--both of you," Norahsaid. "I just feel certain about it. Before--ever since the warbegan--I was always horribly afraid, but now I'm not afraid any more.It can't last for ever; and some day we'll all go back."

  "And that will be the best thing in the world," said Jim.

  "The very best," she said.

  Some one tapped at the door.

  "May I come in?" asked Miss de Lisle's voice. She entered, bearing alittle tray.

  "You!" said Norah. "But you shouldn't."

  "Bride and Katty have gone to church, so I thought I'd bring you sometea and wish you a merry Christmas," said Miss de Lisle. "But Ididn't expect to find the Captain here." She did not wait for theirgreetings, but vanished with the elephantine swiftness peculiar toher; returning in a few moments with a second tray.

  "And toast!" said Jim. "But where's your own, Miss de Lisle?"

  "Never mind mine--I'll have it in the kitchen," said the cook-lady.

  "Indeed, you will not. Sit down." He marched off, unheeding herprotests. When he returned, he bore a large kitchen tray, with theteapot.

  "It seemed simpler," he
said. "And I couldn't find anything smaller.This cup is large, Miss de Lisle, but then you won't want it filled sooften. Have some of my toast--I couldn't possibly eat all this."

  "Well, it's very pleasant here," said the cook-lady, yielding meekly."I took some to Mr. Wally, but he merely said, 'Get out, Judkins; I'mnot on duty!' and rolled over. So I concluded, in Katty's words, that'his resht was more to him,' and came away."

  "He'll wake up presently and be very pleased to find it; it won'tmatter to him at all if it's stone-cold," said Jim. "Queer chap, Wal.I prefer tea with the chill off it, myself. Judkins has hard timesgetting him up in time for early parade. Luckily Judkins is an oldregular soldier, and has a stern, calm way with a young officer."

  "Who bullies _you_ into getting up, may I ask?" demanded Miss deLisle.

  "I used to be bullied by a gentleman called Wilkes, in the grey dayswhen I was a subaltern," said Jim sadly. "Now, alas, I am aresponsible and dignified person, and I have to set an example." Hesighed. "It's awful to be a captain!"

  "It's so extraordinary," said his sister, "that I never get used toit."

  "But you never had any respect for age," said Jim, removing her trayand putting a pillow on her head. "Every one finished? then I'llclear away the wreck and go and dress." He piled the three trays ontop of each other and goose-stepped from the room solemnly--his longlegs in pyjamas, under a military great coat, ending a curious effectto the spectacle. Miss de Lisle and Norah laughed helplessly.

  "And a captain!" said the cook-lady, wiping her eyes. "Now I reallymust run, or there will be no breakfast in this house."

  Breakfast was a movable feast in the Home for Tired People, whowandered in and out just as they felt inclined. Hot dishes sat on ahot-water plate and a little aluminium-topped table; such matters asham and brawn lurked on a sideboard; and Allenby came in from time totime to replenish tea and coffee. Norah and her father rarelyencountered any one but Phil Hardress at this meal, since theirs wasgenerally over long before most of their guests had decided to get up.On this morning, however, every one was equally late, and food did notseem to matter; the table was "snowed under" with masses of lettersand Christmas parcels, and as every one opened these and talked all atonce, mingling greetings with exclamations over the contents of thepackages, Miss de Lisle's efforts had been in vain.

  "I pitied your post-lady," said Mrs. Aikman, the wife of a woundedcolonel. "She staggered to the door under an enormous mail-bag,looking as though Christmas were anything but merry. However, I sawher departing, after an interval, with quite a sprightly step."

  "Allenby had orders to look after her," Norah said, smiling. "Poorsoul--she begins her round at some unearthly hour and she's hungry andtired by the time she gets here."

  "One of the remarkable things about this country of yours," said Mr.Linton, "is the way you have continued to deliver parcels and lettersas though there were no war. Strange females or gaunt children bringthem to one's door, but the main point is that they do come. InAustralia, even without a war, the post-office scorns to deliver aparcel; if any one is rash enough to send you one the post-office putsit in a cupboard and sends you a cold postcard to tell you to come andtake it away. If you don't come soon, they send you a threateningcard."

  "And if you don't obey that?"

  "I never dared to risk a third," said Mr. Linton, laughing. "I am aman of peace."

  "But what a horrible system!" said Mrs. Aikman. "Doesn't it interferewith business?"

  "Oh yes, greatly," said her host. "But I suppose we shall learn, intime."

  "I'm going over to the cottage," Norah whispered to Jim. "Docome--Geoff won't think it's Christmas if you don't."

  They went out into the hall. Flying feet came down the stairs, andWally was upon them.

  "Merry Christmas, Norah!" He seized both her hands and pranced herdown the hall. "Always begin Christmas with a turkey-trot!" hechanted.

  "Begin, indeed!" said Norah, with a fine contempt. "I began minehours ago. Where have you been?"

  "I have been--contemplating," said Wally, his brown eyes twinkling."No one called me."

  "There's evidence to the contrary," Jim said, grinning. "It has beenstated that you called a perfectly blameless lady Judkins, and saidawful things to her."

  "My Aunt!" said Wally. "I hope not--unless you talk pretty straightto Judkins he doesn't notice you. That accounts for the frozen teaand toast I found; I thought Father Christmas had put 'em there."

  "Did you eat them?"

  "Oh, yes--you should never snub a saint!" said Wally. "So now I don'twant any breakfast. Where are you two going?"

  "To the cottage. Come along--but really, I do think you should eat adecent breakfast, Wally."

  "It will be dinner-time before we know where we are--and I feel thatMiss de Lisle's dinner will be no joke," said Wally. "So come along,old house mother, and don't worry your ancient head about me." Eachboy seized one of Norah's hands and they raced across the lawn. DavidLinton, looking at them from the dining-room window, laughed a little.

  "Bless them--they're all babies again!" he thought.

  The cottage was echoing with strange sounds; it might be inferred thatthe stockings of the young Hunts had contained only bugles, trumpetsand drums. Eva, sweeping the porch, greeted the newcomers with afriendly grin.

  "Merry Christmas, Eva!"

  "The sime to you," said Eva. "Ain't it a real cold morning? Thefrorst's got me fingers a fair treat."

  "No one minds frost on Christmas Day--it's the proper thing in thisqueer country!" said Wally. "Was Father Christmas good to you, Eva?"

  "Wasn't 'e! Not 'arf!" said Eva. "The children wouldn't 'ear ofanyfink but 'angin' up a stockin' for me--and I'm blowed if it wasn'tbang full this mornin'. And a post-card from me young man from theFront; it's that saucy I wonder 'ow it ever passed the sentry! Well,I do say as 'ow this place ain't brought us nuffink but luck!"

  Geoffrey dashed out, equipped with a miniature Sam Brown belt with asword, and waving a bugle.

  "Look! Father Christmas brought them! Merry Christmas, everybody."He flung himself at Norah, with a mighty hug.

  "And where's my Michael--and that Alison?" Norah asked. "Oh, Michael,darling, aren't you the lucky one!" as he appeared crowned with apaper cap and drawing a wooden engine. "Where's Alison?"

  "It's no good ever _speaking_ to Alison," Geoffrey said, with scorn."She got a silly doll in her stocking, and all she'll do is to sit onthe floor and take off its clothes. Girls are stupid--all 'cept you,Norah!"

  "Keep up that belief, my son, and you'll be spared a heap of trouble,"said Major Hunt, coming out. "Unfortunately, you're bound to changeyour mind. How are you all? We've had an awful morning!"

  "It began at half-past four," Mrs. Hunt added. "At that hour Michaeldiscovered a trumpet; and no one has been asleep since."

  "They talk of noise at the Front!" said her husband. "Possibly I'vegot used to artillery preparation; anyhow, it strikes me as a smallthing compared to my trio when they get going with assorted musicalinstruments. How is your small family, Miss Norah?"

  "Not quite so noisy as yours--but still, you would notice they werethere!" Norah answered, laughing. "They were all at breakfast when Ileft, and it seemed likely that breakfast would run on to dinner,unless they remembered that church is at eleven. I must run home; wejust came to wish you all a merry Christmas. Dinner at half-past one,remember!"

  "We won't forget," Mrs. Hunt said.

  Every one was dining at Homewood, and dinner, for the sake of thechildren, was in the middle of the day. The house was full of guests;they trooped back from church across the park, where the ground ranghard as iron underfoot, for it was a frosty Christmas. Homewoodglowed with colour and life--with big fires blazing everywhere, andholly and ivy scarlet and green against the dark oaken panelling ofthe walls. And if the Australians sent thoughts overseas to a redhomestead--Billabong, nestling in its green of orchard and garden,with scorched yellow paddocks str
etching away for miles aroundit--they were not homesick thoughts to-day. For home was in theirhearts, and they were together once more.

  The dinner was a simple one--Miss de Lisle had reserved her finestinspirations for the evening meal, regarding Christmas dinner as amere affair of turkey and blazing plum-pudding, which, except in thematter of sauces, might be managed by any one. "It needs no soul!"she said. But no one found any fault, and at the end Colonel Aikmanmade a little speech of thanks to their hosts. "We all know they hatespeeches made at them," he finished. "But Homewood is a blessed wordto-day to fighting men."

  "And their wives," said Mrs. Aikman.

  "Yes--to people who came to it tired beyond expression; and went backforgetting weariness. In their names--in the names of all of us--wewant to say 'Thank you.'"

  David Linton stood up, looking down the long room, and last, at hisson.

  "We, who are the most thankful people in the world, I think, to-day,"he said, "do not feel that you owe us any gratitude. Rather we owe itto all our Tired People--who helped us through our own share of whatwar can mean. And, apart from that, we never feel that the work isours. We carry on for the sake of a dead man--a man who loved hiscountry so keenly that to die for it was his highest happiness. Weare only tools, glad of war-work so easy and pleasant as our guestsmake our job. But the work is John O'Neill's. So far as we can, wemean to make it live to his memory."

  He paused. Norah, looking up at him, saw him through misty eyes.

  "So--we know you'll think of us kindly after we have gone back toAustralia," the deep voice went on. "There will be a welcome there,too, for any of you who come to see us. But when you rememberHomewood, please do not think of it as ours. If that brave soul canlook back--as he said he would, and as we are sure he does--then he ishappy over every tired fighter who goes, rested, from his house. Hisonly grief was that he could not fight himself. But his work in thewar goes on; and as for us, we simply consider ourselves very lucky tobe his instruments."

  Again he paused.

  "I don't think this is a day for drinking toasts," he said. "When wehave won we can do that--but we have not won yet. But I will ask youall to drink to a brave man's memory--to John O'Neill."

  The short afternoon drew quickly to dusk, and lights flashed out--tobe discreetly veiled, lest wandering German aircraft should wish todrop bombs as Christmas presents. Norah and the boys had disappearedmysteriously after dinner, vanishing into the study. PresentlyGeoffrey came flying to his mother, with eager eyes.

  "Mother! Father Christmas is here!"

  "You don't say so!" said Mrs. Hunt, affecting extreme astonishment."Where?"

  "I saw him run along the hall and go into the study. He was real,Mother!"

  "Of course he's real," Major Hunt said. "Do you think he's gone upthe study chimney?"

  Wally appeared in the doorway.

  "Will the ladies and gentlemen kindly walk into the study?" he saidsolemnly. "We have a distinguished guest."

  "There! I _told_ you," said Geoffrey ecstatically. He tugged at hisfather's hand, capering.

  In the study a great fir-tree towered to the ceiling; a Christmas-treeof the most beautiful description, gay with shining coloured globesand wax lights and paper lanterns; laden with mysterious packages inwhite paper, tied with ribbon of red, white and blue, and with otherthings about which there was no mystery--clockwork toys, field gunsand ambulance wagons, and a big, splendid Red Cross nurse, difficultto consider a mere doll. Never was seen such a laden tree; it'sbranches groaned under the weight they bore. And beside it, who butFather Christmas, bowing and smiling with his eyes twinkling underbushy white eyebrows.

  "Walk in, ladies and gentleman, walk in!" he said invitingly.

  Wally frowned at him.

  "That's not the way to talk," he said. "You aren't a shop-walker!"He inflicted a surreptitious kick upon the elderly saint.

  "Hi, you blighter, that's my shin!" said Father Christmas wrathfully;a remark luckily unheard by the guests in the excitement of themoment.

  All the household was there; Miss de Lisle beaming at Wally and verystately and handsome in blue silk; the servants, led by Allenby, withCon and Katty and Bride giggling with astonishment at a tree the likeof which did not grow in Donegal.

  "All mustered?" said Father Christmas. "Right oh! I mean, that iswell. As you see, I've had no end of a time labouring in your behalf.But I love hard work!" (Interruption from Mr. Meadows, sounding like"I _don't_ think!") "Being tired, I shall depute to my dear youngfriend here the task of removing the parcels from the tree." Hetapped Wally severely on the head with his knuckles, and that haplessyouth ejaculated, "Beast!". "You'll get thrown out, if you don'twatch it!" said the saint severely. "Now--ladies first!"

  He detached the Red Cross nurse from her bough and placed her inAlison's arms; and Alison, who had glued her eyes to her from themoment of entering the room, uttered a gasp, sat promptly upon thefloor, and began an exhaustive examination of her charms, unheedingany further gifts. Under the onslaught of Wally and Harry the treespeedily became stripped of its burden; Father Christmas directingtheir labours in a voice that plainly had its training on thebarrack-square. Eva watched him admiringly.

  "Ain't the Captin a trick!" she murmured, hugging her parcels to her.

  The last package came down, and Father Christmas slipped away,disappearing behind a screen with a flourish that revealed animmaculate brown leather gaiter under the cotton-wool snow borderinghis red cloak; and presently Jim sauntered out, slightly flushed.

  "Oh, you silly!" said Geoffrey. "Where _ever_ have you been? You'vemissed ole Father Christmas!"

  "I never did have any luck," Jim said dolefully.

  "Never mind--he's left heaps and heaps of parcels for you. I'll helpyou open them," said Geoffrey kindly.

  The gong summoned them to tea; and afterwards it was time to take thechildren home, happy and sleepy. Jim tossed Alison up on hisshoulder, and, with Geoffrey clinging to his other hand, and Michaelriding Wally pick-a-back, Norah and the boys escorted the Hunts backto the cottage.

  "You're coming over again, of course?" Jim said. "We're going todance to-night."

  "Oh yes; we're getting a terribly frivolous old couple," said Mrs.Hunt, laughing. "But Christmas leave only comes once a year,especially when there's a war on!"

  "I think she needs a rest-cure!" said her husband, knitting his browsover this remarkable statement. "Come in and lie down for awhile, oryou won't be coherent at all by to-night; Eva and I will put thebabies to bed."

  "Can't I help?" Norah asked.

  "No--you're off duty to-night. You've really no idea how handy I am!"said Major Hunt modestly.

  "Then we'll see you later on," Norah said, disentangling Michael fromher neck. "Good-night, Michael, darling; and all of you."

  "We've had a lovely time!" Geoffrey said.

  "I'm so glad," Norah said, smiling at him. The cottage-door closed,and they turned back.

  "I've had a lovely time, too!" she said. "There never was such aChristmas!"

  "Never!" Jim said. "I believe that five months in Germany was worthit."

  "No!" said Wally sharply.

  "No, it wasn't," Norah agreed. "But now--it helps one to forget."

  They came slowly across the frozen lawn. Before them Homewood loomedup, little beams of warm light coming from its shuttered windows.Then the door opened wide, letting out a flood of radiance; and in itstood David Linton, looking out for them. They came into the path oflight; Norah between the two tall lads. His voice was tender as helooked down at their glowing faces.

  "It's cold," he said. "Come in to the fire, children."

  ----------------------------------------------------------------------

  Notes: possible errors in original text that I have left intact andsome notes on things that might look wrong but I think they areactually correct.

  1) reading about," said Wally. "Do you remember, Jim, how old poor old -> the fi
rst old should probably be omitted

  2) know I ain't one of your fine lady cooks with a nime out of the -> nime occurs elsewhere in the text as well and indicates an accent

  3) and became extraordinarily skilful in the use of chisel and plane. -> skilful with one 'l' is valid British spelling

  4) him to instal her before we get to Homewood on Thursday. Hawkins has -> instal with one 'l' is valid British spelling