Part 16 (1/2)

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

”Yes, if you'd hurry up and come. You'll be a good kid, Alison, won't you?”

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

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

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

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

”But you won't tell him anything?”

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

”We're less than an hour by rail,” he told her. ”And the trains are good. Now I think you had better pack up those youngsters, and I'll get a taxi.”

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

”Oh, I know you'll spoil them,” said Mrs. Hunt resignedly. ”Poor mites, they could do with a bit of spoiling: they have had a dreary year. But I think they will be good: they have been away with my sister sometimes, and she gives them a good character.”

The children said good-bye to their mother gaily enough: the ride in the motor was sufficient excitement to smooth out any momentary dismay at parting. Only Geoffrey sat up very straight, with his lips tightly pressed together. He leaned from the window--Norah gripping his coat anxiously.

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

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

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

Jones met them at the end of the little journey. His lips involuntarily shaped themselves to a whistle of amazement as the party filed out of the station, though to the credit of his training be it recorded that no sound came. Geoffrey caught his breath with delight at the sight of the brown cobs.

”Oh-h! Are they yours?”

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

The boy caught her hand.

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

Norah laughed.

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

”'E'd be as safe as in a cradle, Miss Norah,” said Jones delightedly.

”Come on up, sir, and I'll show you 'ow to drive.” Mr. Linton swung him up, smiling at the transfigured little face. Norah had already got her charges into the carriage: a porter stowed away their trunk, and the horses trotted off through the dusk.

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

”There's a pony too--we'll teach you to ride it,” said Mr. Linton.

Whereat Geoffrey gasped with joy and became speechless.