They tore down the hail, only pausing at Norah’s door while Jim ran in to wake her—a deed speedily accomplished by gently and firmly pressing a wet sponge upon her face. Then they raced to the lagoon, and in a few minutes were splashing and ducking in the water. They spent more time there than Jim had intended, their return being delayed by a spirited boat race between Harry’s slippers, conducted by Wally and Jim. By the time Harry had rescued his sopping footgear, the offenders were beyond pursuit in the middle of the lagoon, so he contented himself with annexing Jim’s slippers, in which he proudly returned to the house. Jim, arriving just too late to save his own, promptly “collared” those of Wally, leaving the last-named youth no alternative but to paddle home in the water-logged slippers—the ground being too rough and stony to admit of barefoot travelling.
Norah, fresh from the bath, was prancing about the verandah in her kimono as the boys raced up to the house, her hair a dusky cloud about her face.
“Not dressed?—you laziness!” Jim flung at her.
“Well, you aren’t either,” was the merry retort.
“No; but we’ve got no silly hair to brush!”
“Pooh!—that won’t take me any time. Mrs. Brown’s up, Jim, and she says breakfast will be ready in ten minutes.”
“Good old Brownie!” Jim ejaculated. “Can’t beat her, can you? D’you know if she’s got the swag packed?”
“Everything’s packed, and she’s given it all to Billy, and it’s on old Polly by now.” Polly was the packhorse. “Such a jolly, big bundle—and everything covered over with cabbage leaves to keep it cool.”
“Hooroo for Casey! Well, scurry and get dressed, old girl. I bet you keep us waiting at the last.”
“I’m sure I won’t,” was the indignant answer, as Norah ran off through the hail. “Think of how much longer you take over your breakfast!”