Part 45 (1/2)

”I don't think you should stay,” she said to Norah. ”The maid and I can do everything for him--and his mother will be home to-morrow. A good hot bath, with some disinfectant in it, here; then leave all your clothes here that you've worn near the patient, and run home in fresh things. No risk for you then.”

”I couldn't leave Geoff,” Norah said. ”Of course I won't interfere with you; but his mother left him to me while she was away. And he might ask for me.”

”Well, it's only for your own sake I was advising you,” said the nurse. ”What do you think, Mr. Linton?”

”I think she ought to stay,” said David Linton shortly--with fear tugging at his heart as he spoke. ”Just make her take precautions, if there are any; but the child comes first--he was left in our care.”

He went away soon, holding Norah very tightly to him for a moment; and then the nurse sent Norah to bed.

”There's nothing for you to do,” she said. ”I shall have a sleep near the patient.”

”But you'll call me if he wants me?”

”Yes--I promise. Now be off with you.”

At the moment Norah did not feel as though she could possibly sleep; but very soon her eyes grew heavy and she dozed off to dream, as she often dreamed, that she and Jim were riding over the Far Plain at Billabong, bringing in a mob of wild young bullocks. The cattle had never learned to drive, and broke back constantly towards the shelter of the timber behind them. There was one big red beast, in particular, that would not go quietly; she had half a dozen gallops after him in her dream with Bosun under her swinging and turning with every movement of the bullocks, and finally heading him, wheeling him, and galloping him back to the mob. Then another broke away, and Jim shouted to her, across the paddock.

”Norah! Norah!”

She woke with a start. A voice was calling her name, hoa.r.s.ely; she groped for her dressing-gown and slippers, and ran to Geoffrey's room.

The nurse, also in her dressing-gown, was bending over the bed.

”You're quick,” she said approvingly. ”He only called you once. Take this, now, sonnie.”

”Norah!”

She bent down to him, taking the hot hand.

”I'm here, Geoff, old man. Take your medicine.”

”All right,” said Geoffrey. He gulped it down obediently and lay back. ”Will Mother come?”

”Very soon now,” Norah said. ”You know she had to be in London--just for one night. She'll be back to-morrow.”

”It's nearly to-morrow, now,” the nurse said. ”Not far off morning.”

”That's nice!” the child said. ”Stay with me, Norah.”

”Of course I will, old man. Just shut your eyes and go to sleep; I won't go away.”

She knelt by his bed, patting him gently, until his deep breaths told that sleep had come to him again. The nurse touched her shoulder and pointed to the door; she got up softly and went out, looking through her open window at the first streaks of dawn in the east. Her dream was still vivid in her mind; even over her anxiety for the child in her care came the thought of it, and the feeling that Jim was very near now.

”Jim!” she whispered, gazing at the brightening sky.

In Germany, at that moment, two hunted men were facing dawn--running wildly, in dread of the coming daylight. But of that Norah knew nothing. The Jim she saw was the big, clean-limbed boy with whom she had ridden so often at Billabong. It seemed to her that his laughing face looked at her from the rose and gold of the eastern sky.

Then Geoffrey turned, and called to her, and she went to him swiftly.

It was four days later.