“For it was you callin’ out that saved me first,” he said. “I’d never ’a thought to jump, but I heard you sing out to me, an’ if I hadn’t she’d a broke my neck, sure. An’ then it was you thought o’ bringing in the cubs. Well, missy, I won’t forget you long’s I live.”
The nurse, at his nod, brought out the skin of a young tiger, beautifully marked and made into a rug.
“If you wouldn’t mind takin’ that from me,” explained the tamer. “I’d like to feel you had it, an’ I’d like to shake hands with you, missy.”
Outside the room Norah turned a flushed face to her father.
“Do let’s go home, Daddy,” she begged. “Cunjee’s too embarrassing for me!”
CHAPTER XIV.
CAMPING OUT
“About that fishing excursion, Norah?”
“Yes, Daddy.” A small brown paw slid itself into Mr. Linton’s hand.
They were sitting on the verandah in the stillness of an autumn evening, watching the shadows on the lawn become vague and indistinct, and finally merge into one haze of dusk. Mr. Linton had been silent for a long time. Norah always knew when her father wanted to talk. This evening she was content to be silent, too, leaning against his knee in her own friendly fashion as she curled up at his feet.
“Oh, you hadn’t forgotten, then?”