“I was thinking about that, too,” said Norah. “And I got a clearer notion than about using it now, I think. Of course,”—she hesitated—“I don’t know much about money matters, or if you think I ought to keep the place. You see, you always seem to have enough to give us everything we want, Dad. I won’t need to keep it, will I? I don’t want to, even if I haven’t got much money.”
“I’m not a millionaire,” said David Linton, laughing. “But—no, you won’t need an English income, Norah.”
“I’m so glad,” said Norah. “Then when we go back to Billabong, Dad, couldn’t we turn it all into a place for partly-disabled soldiers,—where they could work a bit, just as much as they were able to, but they’d be sure of a home and wouldn’t have any anxiety. I don’t know if it could be made self—self—you know—earning its own living——”
“Self-supporting,” assisted her father.
“Yes, self-supporting,” said Norah gratefully. “Perhaps it could. But they’d all have their pensions to help them.”
“Yes, and it could be put under a partly-disabled officer with a wife and kids that he couldn’t support—some poor beggar feeling like committing suicide because he couldn’t tell where little Johnny’s next pair of boots was coming from!” added Jim. “That’s the most ripping idea, Norah! What do you think, Dad?”
“Yes—excellent,” said Mr. Linton. “The details would want a lot of working-out, of course: but there will be plenty of time for that. I would like to make it as nearly self-supporting as possible, so that there would be no idea of charity about it.”
“A kind of colony,” said Wally.
“Yes. It ought to be workable. The land is good, and with poultry-farming, and gardening, and intensive culture, it should pay well enough. We’ll get all sorts of expert advice, Norah, and plan the thing thoroughly.”
“And we’ll call it ‘The O’Neill Colony,’ or something like that,” said Norah, her eyes shining. “I’d like it to carry on Sir John’s name, wouldn’t you, Dad?”