Part 43 (2/2)

”Good-bye, darling! Take care of yourself in London Town!”

”I will,” said his mother. ”Mind you take care of all the family.

You're in charge, you know, Geoff.”

”Rather!” he said. ”I'm G.O.C., and they've got to do what I tell them, haven't they? And Mother--tell the Colonel to send Father home.”

”Then you won't be G.O.C.,” said Norah.

”Don't want to be, if Father comes,” said Geoffrey, his eyes dancing.

”You'll tell him, won't you, Mother?”

”Indeed I will,” she said. ”Now, off you go. Don't put the cart into the ditch, Geoff!”

”Isn't you insulting,” said her son loftily. ”But womens don't understand!” He elevated his nose--and then relented to fling her kisses as the pony trotted off. Mrs. Hunt stood at the station entrance to watch him for a moment--sitting very straight and stiff, holding his whip at the precise angle taught by Jones. It was such a heartsome sight that the incoming train took her by surprise, and she had barely time to get her ticket and rush for a carriage.

Norah and her charges found so much to do in the village that when they reached home it was time for Michael's morning sleep. Eva brooked no interference with her right of tucking him up for this period of peace, but graciously permitted Norah to inspect the process and kiss the rosy cheek peeping from the blankets. Then Alison and Geoffrey accompanied her to the house, and visited Miss de Lisle in her kitchen, finding her by a curious chance, just removing from the oven a batch of tiny cakes of bewildering attractions. Norah lost them afterwards, and going to look for them, was guided by sound to Allenby's pantry, where that most correct of butlers was found on his hands and knees, being fiercely ridden by both his visitors, when it was very pleasant to behold Allenby's frantic endeavours to get to his feet before Norah should discover him, and yet to avoid upsetting his riders. Then they called upon Mr. Linton in his study, but finding him for once inaccessible, being submerged beneath accounts and cheque-books, they fell back upon the billiard-room, where Harry Trevor and Bob McGrath, his chum, welcomed them with open arms, and romped with them until it was time for Norah to take them home to dinner.

”Awful jolly kids,” said Harry. ”Why don't you keep them here for lunch, Norah?”

”Eva would be terribly hurt,” said Norah. ”She always cooks everything they like best when Mrs. Hunt is away--quite regardless of their digestions.”

”Well, can't they come back afterwards? Let's all go for a walk somewhere.”

”Oh, do!” pleaded Geoffrey. ”Could we go to the river, Norah?”

”Yes, of course,” said Norah. ”Will it be too far for Alison, though?”

”Not it--she walked there with Father when he was home last time. Do let's.”

”Then we must hurry,” said Norah. ”Come along, or Eva will think we have deserted her.”

They found Eva slightly truculent.

”I was wonderin' was you stayin' over there to dinner,” she said. ”I know I ain't one of your fine lady cooks with a nime out of the 'Family 'Erald,' but there ain't no 'arm in that there potato pie, for all that!”

”It looks beautiful,” said Norah, regarding the brown pie affectionately. ”I'm so glad I'm here for lunch. What does Michael have, Eva?”

”Michael 'as fish--an' 'e 'as it out in the kitchen with me,” said Eva firmly. ”An' 'is own little baby custid-puddin'. No one but me ever cooks anythink for that kid. Well, of course, you send 'im cakes an'

things,” she added grudgingly.

”Oh, but they're not nourishment,” said Norah with tact.

”No,” said Eva brightening. ”That's wot I says. An' nourishment is wot counts, ain't it?”

”Oh, rather!” Norah said. ”And isn't he a credit to you! Well, come on, children--I want pie!” She drew Alison's high chair to the table, while Eva, departing to the kitchen, relieved her feelings with a burst of song.

They spent a merry afternoon at the river--a little stream which went gurgling over pebbly shallows, widening now and then into a broad pool, or hurrying over miniature rapids where brown trout lurked.

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