The three Australians came that afternoon; and, like many Australians in the wilds of London with a vague idea of distances, having given themselves good time to catch their train, managed to catch the one before it; and so arrived at Homewood unheralded and unsung. Norah and Captain Hardress, who had been knocking golf-balls about, were crossing the terrace on their way to tea when the three slouched hats caught Norah’s eye through the trees of the avenue. She gasped, dropped her clubs, and fled to meet them. Hardress stared: then, perceiving the newcomers, smiled a little and went on slowly.
“I’d like to see her doing a hundred yards!” he said.
The three soldiers jumped as the flying figure came upon them, round a bend in the drive. Then one of them sprang forward.
“Harry!” said Norah.
“My word, I am glad to see you!” said Harry Trevor, pumping her hand. “I say, Norah, you haven’t changed a bit. You’re just the same as when you were twelve—only that you’ve grown several feet.”
“Did you expect to find me bald and fat?” Norah laughed. “Oh, Harry, we are glad to see you!”
“Well, you might have aged a little,” said he. “Goodness knows I have! Norah, where’s old Jim?”
“He’s at Aldershot—but you can be certain that he’ll be here as soon as he possibly can—and Wally too.”
“That’s good business.” He suddenly remembered his friends, who were affecting great interest in the botanical features of a beech-tree. “Come here, you chaps; Norah, this is Jack Blake—and Dick Harrison. They’re awfully glad to see you, too!”
“Well, you might have let us say it for ourselves, digger,” said the two, shaking hands. “We were just going to.”