“I don't see any good arguing about it, at all events,” said Norah, practically. “We're all hot and tired, and I vote we just get home and have tea. We'll all feel better after a tub, and then we can begin to make plans. Come on, Tommy dear, it's just lovely to think we're going to have you.”
Bob stood with one hand on the scorched gate.
“I wish I could have got here in time to get out a few things,” he muttered.
“Oh, I did that,” said Wally, brightening. “I forgot, in the shock of finding all Noah's Ark turned out in the creek. Come along, Tommy, and see my little lot of salvage!”
He dragged himself up from the ground and seized Tommy's hand. They trooped across the lawn.
“I saved the cuckoo clock and that set of Swiss bears,” said Wally. “And lots of oddments from goodness knows where—the sort of thing you can't buy in Cunjee. I expect I've hauled out all the things you wouldn't have saved, Tommy, but you'll just have to let me down lightly—I'd have made a shot for the beloved cake tins, only I hadn't time.”
“Oh, Wally, you dear old idiot,” said Tommy. “And that's how you nearly killed yourself.” They came in sight of Wally's heap of loot, and she stopped in amazement.
“Bob—just look!”
“By Jupiter!” said Bob, “you saved my old box! You old brick. How did you manage it? Why, it weighs a ton!”
Tommy was on her knees by the bundles. “Look!” she said. “Look, Bobby! My silver things—and all Aunt Margaret's, and my little jewel box. And my clothes! How did you do it, Wally?” Suddenly her voice broke. She put her head down on the bundle in a passion of sobs.