“I suppose he is,” said her father. “Doesn’t it sound ridiculous!”
“I don’t think it’s ridiculous at all,” said Norah warmly. “He deserved it. I think it sounds simply beautiful!”
“Do you know,” said her father, somewhat embarrassed—“I really believe I agree with you!” He laughed. “Captain Linton!”
“Captain Linton!” reiterated Norah. “Our old Jimmy!” She swept the table clear. “Oh, Daddy, bother the fertilizers for to-night—I’m going to write to Billabong!”
“But it isn’t mail-day to-morrow,” protested her father mildly.
“No,” said Norah. “But I’ll explode if I don’t tell Brownie!”
“And will the Captain be coming ’ome soon, Miss Norah?” inquired Allenby, a little later. The household had waxed ecstatic over the news.
“The Captain?” Norah echoed. “Oh, how nice of you, Allenby! It does sound jolly!”
“Miss de Lisle wishes to know, miss. The news ’as induced ’er to invent a special cake.”
“We’ll have to send it to the poor Captain, I’m afraid,” said Norah, dimpling. “Dear me, I haven’t told Mrs. Hunt! I must fly!” She dropped her pen, and fled to the cottage—to find her father there before her.