Part 29 (1/2)

”No, I know it can't, Jimmy. Don't you worry.”

”Dear old chap,” said Jim, and stood up. ”I had better go and make myself presentable before the second gong goes.” He paused. ”You're all ready aren't you? Then you might go down. Wally will be wandering round everywhere, looking for you.”

CHAPTER XI

CHEERO!

It was ten days later that the summons to France came--ten days during which the boys had managed to make several meteoric dashes over to Homewood for the night, and had accomplished one blissful week-end, during which, with the aid of their fellow-countrymen, they had brought the household to the verge of exhaustion from laughter.

Nothing could damp their spirits: they rode and danced, sang and joked, and, apparently, having no cares in the world themselves, were determined that no one else should have any. The Hunt family were drawn into the fun: the kitchen was frequently invaded, and Miss de Lisle declared that even her sitting-room was not sacred--and was privately very delighted that it was not. Allenby began to develop a regrettable lack of control over his once stolid features; Sarah herself was observed to stuff her ap.r.o.n into her mouth and rush from the dining-room on more than one occasion. And under cover of his most energetic fooling Jim Linton watched his father and sister, and fooled the more happily whenever he made them laugh.

They arrived together unexpectedly on this last evening, preferring to bring their news rather than give it by telephone; and found, instead of the usual cheery tea-party in the hall, only silence and emptiness.

Allenby, appearing, broke into a broad smile of pleasure as he greeted them.

”Every one's out, Mr. Jim.”

”So it seems,” Jim answered. ”Where are they?”

”Not very far, sir,” Allenby said. ”Mrs. 'Unt has them all to tea with her to-day.”

”Oh, we'll go over, Wal,” Jim said. ”Come and make yourself pretty: you've a splash of mud on your downy cheek.” At the foot of the stairs he turned. ”We're off to-morrow, Allenby.”

Allenby's face fell.

”To France, sir?”

Jim nodded.

”The master and Miss Norah will be very sorry, sir. If I may say so, the 'ole 'ousehold will be sorry.”

”Thanks, Allenby. We'll miss you all,” Jim said pleasantly. He sprang upstairs after Wally.

Mrs. Hunt's sitting-room was already dangerously crowded--there seemed no room at all for the two tall lads for whom Eva opened the door ten minutes later. A chorus of welcome greeted them, nevertheless.

”This is delightful,” said Mrs. Hunt. ”I'm sure I don't know how you're going to fit in, but you must manage it somehow. If necessary we'll all stand up and re-pack ourselves, but I warn you it is risky: the walls may not stand it!”

”Oh, don't trouble, Mrs. Hunt,” Jim said. ”We're quite all right.”

Both boys' eyes had sought Norah as they entered: and Norah, meeting the glance, felt a sudden pang at her heart, and knew.

”My chair is ever so much too big for me,” she said. ”You can each have an arm.”

”Good idea!” said Wally, perching on the broad arm of the easy-chair that swallowed her up. ”Come along, Jim, or we'll be lop-sided!”

”We put Norah in the biggest chair in the room, and everybody is treating her with profound respect,” Mrs. Hunt said. ”This is the first day for quite a while that she hasn't been hostess, so we made her chief guest, and she is having a rest-cure.”

”If you treat Norah with respect it won't have at all a restful effect on her,” said Wally. ”I've tried.” To which Norah inquired, ”When?”

in a voice of such amazement that every one laughed.