"Well, didn't you have a little private war in Ireland? What about that German submarine?"

"Oh, that was sheer luck," said Wally joyfully. "_Such_ a lark--only for one thing. But we don't consider we've earned our keep yet."

"Oh, well, you've got lots of time," Harry said. "I wonder if they'll send any of us to France--it would be rather fun if we got somewhere in your part of the line."

"Yes, wouldn't it?" Then Jack Blake, who had been at school with the boys, came up with d.i.c.k Harrison, and England ceased to exist for the five Australians. They talked of their own country--old days at school; hard-fought battles on the Melbourne Cricket Ground; boat-racing on the Yarra; Billabong and other stations; bush-fires and cattle-yarding; long days on the road with cattle, and nights spent watching them under the stars. All the grim business of life that had been theirs since those care-free days seemed but to make their own land dearer by comparison. Not that they said so, in words. But they lingered over their talk with an unspoken delight in being at home again--even in memory.

Norah slipped away, regretfully enough, after a time: her responsibilities as housekeeper weighed upon her, and she sought Miss de Lisle in the kitchen.

"What, your brother and Mr. Wally? How delightful!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the cook-lady. "That's what I call really jolly. Their rooms are always ready, I suppose?"

"Oh, yes," Norah said. "I've told Bride to put sheets on the beds."

"Then that's all right. Dinner? My dear, you need never worry about a couple extra for dinner in a household of this size. Just tell the maids to lay the table accordingly, and let me know--that is all you need do."

"Mrs. Atkins had destroyed my nerve!" said Norah, laughing. "I came down to tell you with the same scared feeling that I had when I used to go to her room. My very knees were shaking!"

"Then you're a very bad child, if you _are_ my employer!" returned Miss de Lisle. "However, I'll forgive you: but some time I want you to make a list for me of the things those big boys of yours like most: I might just as well cook them as not, when they come. And of course, when they go out to France, we shall have to send them splendid hampers."

"That will be a tremendous comfort," Norah said. "You're a brick, Miss de Lisle. We used to send them hampers before, of course, but it seemed so unsatisfactory just to order them at the Stores: it will be ever so much nicer to cook them things. You _will_ let me cook, won't you?"

"Indeed I will," said Miss de Lisle. "We'll shut ourselves up here for a day, now and then, and have awful bouts of cookery. How did you like the potato cakes at tea, by the way?"

"They were perfect," Norah said. "I never tasted better, even in Ireland." At which Katty, who had just entered with a saucepan, blushed hotly, and cast an ecstatic glance at Miss de Lisle.

"I don't suppose you did," remarked that lady. "You see, Katty made them."

"Wasn't she good, now, to let me, Miss Norah?" Katty asked. "There's them at home that towld me I'd get no chance at all of learning under a grand cook here. 'Tis little the likes of them 'ud give you to do in the kitchen: if you asked them for a job, barring it was to wash the floor, they'd pitch you to the Sivin Divils. 'Isn't the scullery good enough for you?' they'd say. 'c.o.c.k you up with the cooking!'

But Miss de Lisle isn't one of them--and the cakes to go up to the drawing-room itself!"

"Well, every one liked them, Katty," Norah said.

"Yerra, hadn't I Bridie watching behind the big screen with the crack in it?" said the handmaid. "She come back to me, and she says, 'They're all ate,' says she: ''tis the way ye had not enough made,'

she says. I didn't know if 'twas on me head or me heels I was!" She bent a look of adoration upon Miss de Lisle, who laughed.

"Oh, I'll make a cook of you yet, Katty," she said. "Meanwhile you'd better put some coal on the fire, or the oven won't be hot enough for my pastry. Is it early breakfast for your brother and Mr. Wally, Miss Linton?"

"I'm afraid so," Norah said. "Jim said they must leave at eight o'clock."

"Then that means breakfast at seven-thirty. Will you have yours with them?"

"Oh yes, please--if it's not too much trouble."

"Nothing's a trouble--certainly not an early breakfast," said Miss de Lisle. "Now don't worry about anything."

Norah went back to the hall--to find it deserted. A buzz of voices came from the billiard-room; she peeped in to find all the soldiers talking with her father listening happily in a big chair. No one saw her: she withdrew, and went in search of Mrs. West, but failed to find her. Bride, encountered in her evening tour with cans of hot water, reported that 'twas lying down she was, and not wishful for talk: her resht was more to her.

"Then I may as well go and dress," Norah said.

She had just finished when a quick step came along the corridor, and stopped at her door. Jim's fingers beat the tattoo that was always their signal.

"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."