Harry and Bob, like most Australian soldiers in England, were themselves only children when they had the chance of playing with babies; they romped in the gra.s.s with them, swung them on low-growing boughs, or skimmed stones across placid pools, until the sun grew low in the west, and they came back across the park. Norah wheeled Michael in a tiny car; Bob carried Alison, and presently Geoffrey admitted that his legs were tired, and was glad to ride home astride Harry's broad shoulders. Mr. Linton came out to meet them, and they all went back to the cottage, where Eva had tea ready and was slightly aggrieved because her scones had cooled.

"Now, you must all go home," Norah told her men-folk, after tea.

"It's late, and I have to bath three people."

"Don't we see you again?" Harry asked.

"You may come over to-night if you like--Dad is coming," Norah said.

"Geoff, you haven't finished, have you?"

"I don't think I'm very hungry," Geoffrey said. "May I go and shut up my guinea-pigs?"

"Yes, of course. Alison darling, I don't think you ought to have any more cakes."

"I always has free-four-'leven when mother is at home," said Alison firmly, annexing a chocolate cake and digging her little white teeth into it in the hope of averting any further argument. "Michael doesn't want more, he had Geoff's."

"Geoff's? But didn't Geoff eat any?"

"Geoff's silly to-night," said his sister. "Fancy not bein' hungry when there was choc'lit cakes!"

"I hope he didn't get too tired," Norah said to herself anxiously.

"I'll hurry up and get them all to bed."

She bathed Michael and Alison, with Eva in attendance, and tucked them up. They were very sleepy--too sleepy to be troubled that Mother was not there to kiss them good night; indeed, as Norah bent over Michael, he thought she was his mother, and murmured, "Mum-mum," in the dusk in a little contented voice. Norah put her cheek down to the rose-leaf one for a moment, and then hurried out.

"Geoff! Where are you, Geoff?"

"I'm here," said Geoffrey, from the back doorstep. He rose and came towards her slowly. Something in his face made her vaguely uneasy.

"Ready for bed, old chap?" she asked. "Come on--are you tired?"

"My legs are tired," Geoffrey said. "And my head's queer. It keeps turning round." He put out a little appealing hand, and Norah took it in her own. It was burning hot.

"I--I wish Mother was home," the boy said.

Norah sat down and took him on her knee. He put his head against her.

"You must just let old Norah look after you until Mother comes back,"

she said gently. The memory of the fever in the village came to her, and she turned sick with fear. For a moment she thought desperately of what she must do both for Geoffrey and for the other children.

"I won't bath Master Geoff; he is tired," she said to Eva. She carried the little fellow into his room and slipped off his clothes; he turned in the cool sheets thankfully.

"Lie still, old man; I'll be back in a moment," Norah said. She went out and called to Eva, reflecting with relief that the girl's hard c.o.c.kney sense was not likely to fail her.

"Eva," she said, "I'm afraid Master Geoff is ill. You know there is fever in the village, and I think he has it. I mustn't go near any one, because I've been looking after him. Run over to the house and tell Mr. Linton I would like him to come over--as quickly as possible.

Don't frighten him."

"Right-oh!" said Eva. "I won't be 'arf a tick."

Her flying feet thudded across the gra.s.s as Norah went back to the room where Geoffrey was already sleeping heavily. She looked down at the little face, flushed and dry; in her heart an agony of dread for the Mother, away at her party in London. Then she went outside to wait for her father.

He came quickly, accompanied by Miss de Lisle and Harry Trevor.

"I telephoned for the doctor directly I got your message," he said.

"He'll be up in a few minutes."

"Thank goodness!" said Norah. "Of course it may not be the fever.

But it's something queer."

"The little chap wasn't all right down at the river," Harry said.

"Only he kept going; he's such a plucky kid. But he sat jolly quiet on me coming home."

"I knew he was quiet; I just thought he was a bit tired," Norah said.

"I say, Daddy, what about the other children?"

"What about you?" he asked. His voice was hard with anxiety.

"Me?" said Norah, staring. "Why, of course I must stay with him, Dad.

He's in my charge."

"Yes, I suppose you must," said David Linton heavily. "We'll find out from the doctor what precautions can be taken."

"Oh, I'll be all right," Norah said. "But Alison and Michael mustn't stay here."

"No, of course not. Well, they must only come to us."

"But the Tired People?" Norah asked.

Miss de Lisle interposed.

"There are hardly any now--and two of the boys go away to-morrow," she said. "The south wing could be kept entirely for the children, couldn't it, Mr. Linton? Katty could look after them there--they are fond of her."

"That's excellent," said Mr. Linton. "I really think the risk to the house wouldn't be much. Any of the Tired People who were worried would simply have to go away. But the children would not come near any of them; and, please goodness, they won't develop fever at all."

"Then I'll go back and have a room prepared," Miss de Lisle said; "and then I'll get you, Mr. Harry, to help me bundle them up and carry them over. We mustn't leave them in this place a minute longer than we can help. That lovely fat Michael!" murmured Miss de Lisle incoherently.

She hurried away.

There was a hum of an approaching motor presently, and the doctor's car came up the drive. Dr. Hall, a middle-aged and over-worked man, looked over Geoffrey quickly, and nodded to himself, as he tucked his thermometer under the boy's arm. Geoffrey scarcely stirred in his heavy sleep.

"Fever of course," said the doctor presently, out in the hall. "No, I can't say yet whether he'll be bad or not, Miss Norah. We'll do our best not to let him be bad. Mrs. Hunt away, is she? Well, I'll send you up a nurse. Luckily I've a good one free--and she will bring medicines and will know all I want done." He nodded approval of their plans for Alison and Michael. Mr. Linton accompanied him to his car.

"Get your daughter away as soon as you can," the doctor said. "It's a beastly species of fever; I'd like to hang those tinkers. The child in the village died this afternoon."

"You don't say so!" Mr. Linton exclaimed.

"Yes; very bad case from the first. Fine boy, too--but they didn't call me in time. Well, this village had forgotten all about fever."

He jumped into the car. "I'll be up in the morning," he said; and whirred off into the darkness.

Alison and Michael, enormously amused at what they took to be a new game, were presently bundled up in blankets and carried across to Homewood; and soon a cab trundled up with a brisk, capable-looking nurse, who at once took command in Geoffrey's room.