Part 28 (2/2)

”Come in, Jimmy,” Norah cried.

He came in, looming huge in the dainty little room.

”Good business--you're dressed,” he said. ”Can I come and yarn?”

”Rather,” said Norah, beaming. ”Come and sit down in my armchair.

This electric heater isn't as jolly to yarn by as a good old log fire, but still, it's something.” She pulled her chair forward.

”Can't you wait for me to do that--bad kid!” said Jim. He sat down, and Norah subsided on the rug near him.

”Now tell me all about everything,” he said. ”How are things going?”

”Quite well--especially Mrs. Atkins,” said Norah. ”In fact she's gone!”

Jim sat up.

”Gone! But how?”

Norah told him the story, and he listened with joyful e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns.

”Well, she was always the black spot in the house,” he remarked. ”It gave one the creeps to look at her sour face, and I'm certain she was more bother to you than she was worth.”

”Oh, I feel twenty years younger since she went!” Norah said. ”And it's going to be great fun to housekeep with Miss de Lisle. I shall learn ever so much.”

”So will she, I imagine,” said Jim, laughing. ”Put her up to all the Australian ways, and see if we can't make a good emigrant of her when we go back.”

”I might,” Norah said. ”But she would be a shock to Brownie if she suggested putting her soul into a pudding!”

”Rather!” said Jim, twinkling. ”I say, tell me about Hardress. Do you like him?”

”Oh, yes, ever so much.” She told him of her morning's work--indeed, by the time the gong boomed out its summons from the hall, there was very little in the daily life of Homewood that Jim had not managed to hear.

”We're always wondering how you are getting on,” he said. ”It's jolly over there--the work is quite interesting, and there's a very nice lot of fellows: but I'd like to look in at you two and see how this show was running.” He hesitated. ”It won't be long before we go out, Nor, old chap.”

”Won't it, Jimmy?” She put up a hand and caught his. ”Do you know how long?”

”A week or two--not more. But you're not to worry. You've just got to think of the day when we'll get our first leave--and then you'll have to leave all your Tired People and come and paint London red.”

He gave a queer laugh. ”Oh, I don't know, though. It seems to be considered the right thing to do. But I expect we'll just amble along here and ask you for a job in the house!”

”Why, you'll be Tired People yourselves,” said Norah. ”We'll have to look after you and give you nourishment at short intervals.”

”We'll take that, if it's Miss de Lisle's cooking. Now don't think about this business too much. I thought I'd better tell you, but nothing is definite yet. Perhaps I'd better not tell Dad.”

”No, don't; he's so happy.”

”I wish I didn't have to make either of you less happy,” Jim said in a troubled voice. ”But it can't be helped.”

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