"You shouldn't call your superiors names, especially when I have more ideas coming to me," said Jim severely. "Look here--I agree with Dad that you couldn't have a convalescent home, where you'd need nurses and doctors; but I do think you might ask fellows on final sick-leave, like us--who'd been discharged from hospitals, but were not quite fit yet. Chaps not really needing nursing, but not up to much travelling, or to the racket and fuss of an hotel."

"Yes," said Wally. "Or chaps who had lost a limb, and were trying to plan out how they were going to do without it." His young face looked suddenly grave; Norah remembered a saying of his once before--"I don't in the least mind getting killed, but I don't want Fritz to wing me."

She moved a little nearer to him.

"That's a grand idea--yours too, Jimmy," she said. "Dad, do you think Sir John would be satisfied?"

"If we can carry out our plan as we hope, I think he would," Mr.

Linton said. "We'll find difficulties, of course, and make mistakes, but we'll do our best, Norah. And if we can send back to the Front cheery men, rested and refreshed and keen--well, I think we'll be doing our bit. And after the War? What then?"

"I was thinking about that, too," said Norah. "And I got a clearer notion than about using it now, I think. Of course,"--she hesitated--"I don't know much about money matters, or if you think I ought to keep the place. You see, you always seem to have enough to give us everything we want, Dad. I won't need to keep it, will I? I don't want to, even if I haven't got much money."

"I'm not a millionaire," said David Linton, laughing. "But--no, you won't need an English income, Norah."

"I'm so glad," said Norah. "Then when we go back to Billabong, Dad, couldn't we turn it all into a place for partly-disabled soldiers,--where they could work a bit, just as much as they were able to, but they'd be sure of a home and wouldn't have any anxiety. I don't know if it could be made self--self--you know--earning its own living----"

"Self-supporting," a.s.sisted her father.

"Yes, self-supporting," said Norah gratefully. "Perhaps it could.

But they'd all have their pensions to help them."

"Yes, and it could be put under a partly-disabled officer with a wife and kids that he couldn't support--some poor beggar feeling like committing suicide because he couldn't tell where little Johnny's next pair of boots was coming from!" added Jim. "That's the most ripping idea, Norah! What do you think, Dad?"

"Yes--excellent," said Mr. Linton. "The details would want a lot of working-out, of course: but there will be plenty of time for that. I would like to make it as nearly self-supporting as possible, so that there would be no idea of charity about it."

"A kind of colony," said Wally.

"Yes. It ought to be workable. The land is good, and with poultry-farming, and gardening, and intensive culture, it should pay well enough. We'll get all sorts of expert advice, Norah, and plan the thing thoroughly."

"And we'll call it 'The O'Neill Colony,' or something like that," said Norah, her eyes shining. "I'd like it to carry on Sir John's name, wouldn't you, Dad?"

"Indeed, yes," said David Linton. "It has some sort of quiet, inoffensive name already, by the way--yes, Homewood."

"Well, that sounds nice and restful," said Jim. "Sort of name you'd like to think of in the trenches. When do we go to see it, Dad?"

"The lawyers have written to ask the tenants what day will suit them,"

said his father. "They're an old Indian Army officer and his wife, I believe; General Somers. I don't suppose they will raise any objection to our seeing the house. By the way, there is another important thing: there's a motor and some vehicles and horses, and a few cows, that go with the place. O'Neill used to like to have it ready to go to at any time, no matter how unexpectedly. It was only when War work claimed him that he let it to these people. He was unusually well-off for an Irish landowner; it seems that his father made a heap of money on the Stock Exchange."

"Horses!" said Norah blissfully.

"And a motor."

"That will be handy for bringing the Tired People from the station,"

said she. "Horses that one could ride, I wonder, Daddy?"

"I shouldn't be surprised," said her father, laughing. "Anyhow, I daresay you will ride them."

"I'll try," said Norah modestly. "It sounds too good to be true. Can I run the fowls, Daddy? I'd like that job."

"Yes, you can be poultry-expert," said Mr. Linton. "As for me, I shall control the pigs."

"You won't be allowed to," said Wally. "You'll find a cold, proud steward, or bailiff, or head-keeper or something, who would die of apoplexy if either of you did anything so lowering. You may be allowed to ride, Norah, but it won't be an Australian scurry--you'll have to be awfully prim and proper, and have a groom trotting behind you. With a top-hat." He beamed upon her cheerfully.

"Me!" said Norah, aghast. "Wally, don't talk of such horrible things.

It's rubbish, isn't it, Dad?"

"Grooms and top-hats don't seem to be included in the catalogue," said Mr. Linton, studying it.

"Bless you, that's not necessary," said Jim. "I mean, you needn't get too bucked because they're not. Public opinion will force you to get them. Probably Nor will have to ride in a top-hat, too."

"Never!" said Norah firmly. "Unless you promise to do it too, Jimmy."

"My King and Country have called me," said Jim, with unction.

"Therefore I shall accompany you in uniform--and watch you trying to keep the top-hat on. It will be ever so cheery."

"You won't," said Norah. "You'll be in the mud in Flanders----" and then broke off, and changed the subject laboriously. There were few subjects that did not furnish more or less fun to the Linton family; but Norah never could manage to joke successfully about even the Flanders mud, which appeared to be a matter for humorous recollection to Jim and Wally. Whenever the thought of their return to that dim and terrible region that had swallowed up so many crossed her vision, something caught at her heart and made her breath come unevenly. She knew they must go: she would not have had it otherwise, even had it been certain that they would never come back to her. But that they should not--so alive, so splendid in their laughing strength--the agony of the thought haunted her dreams, no matter how she strove to put it from her by day.

Jim saw the shadow in her eyes and came to her rescue. There was never a moment when Jim and Norah failed to understand each other.

"You'll want a good deal of organization about that place, Dad," he said. "I suppose you'll try to grow things--vegetables and crops?"

"I've been trying to look ahead," said Mr. Linton. "This is only the second year of the War, and I've never thought it would be a short business. It doesn't seem to me that England realizes war at all, so far; everything goes on just the same--not only 'business as usual,'

but other things too: pleasure, luxuries, eating, clothes; everything as usual. I reckon that conscription is bound to come, and before the Hun gets put in his place nearly every able-bodied man in these islands will be forced to help in the job."

"I think you're about right," Jim said.

"Well, then, other things will happen when the men go. Food will get scarcer--the enemy will sink more and more ships; everything that the shops and the farmers sell will get dearer and dearer, and many things will cease to exist altogether. You'll find that coal will run short; and live stock will get scarce because people won't be able to get imported food stuffs that they depend on now. Oh, it's my idea that there are tight times coming for the people of England. And that, of course, means a good deal of anxiety in planning a Home for Tired People. Tired People must be well fed and kept warm."

"Can't we do it, Daddy?" queried Norah, distressed.

"We're going to try, my girl. But I'm looking ahead. One farm comes in with the house, you know. I think we had better get a man to run that with us on the shares system, and we'll grow every bit of food for the house that we can. We'll have plenty of good cows, plenty of fowls, vegetables, fruit; we'll grow potatoes wherever we can put them in, and we'll make thorough provision for storing food that will keep."

"Eggs--in water gla.s.s," said Norah. "And I'll make tons of jam and bottle tons of fruit and vegetables."

"Yes. We'll find out how to preserve lots of things that we know nothing about now. I don't in the least imagine that if real shortage came private people would be allowed to store food; but a house run for a war purpose might be different. Anyhow, there's no shortage yet, so there's no harm in beginning as soon as we can. Of course we can't do very much before we grow things--and that won't be until next year."

"There's marmalade," said Norah wisely. "And apple jam--and we'll dry apples. And if the hens are good there may be eggs to save."

"Hens get discouraged in an English winter, and I'm sure I don't blame them," said Jim, laughing. "Never mind, Nor, they'll buck up in the spring."

"Then there's the question of labour," said Mr. Linton. "I'm inclined to employ only men who wouldn't be conscripted: partially-disabled soldiers or sailors who could still work, or men with other physical drawbacks. Lots of men whose hearts are too weak to go 'over the top'

from the trenches could drive a plough quite well. Then, if conscription does come, we shall be safe."

"I'll like to do it, too," said Norah. "It would be jolly to help them."

"Of course, it will cut both ways," Mr. Linton said. "There should be no difficulty in getting men of the kind--poor lads, there are plenty of disabled ones. I'm inclined to think that the question of women servants will be more difficult."

"Well, I can cook a bit," said Norah--"thanks to Brownie."

"My dear child," said her father, slightly irritated--"you've no idea of what a fairly big English house means, apart from housekeeping and managing. We shall need a really good housekeeper as well as a cook; and goodness knows how many maids under her. You see the thing has got to be done very thoroughly. If it were just you and the boys and me you'd cook our eggs and bacon and keep us quite comfortable. But it will be quite another matter when we fill up all those rooms with Tired People."