“Did you eat them?”
“Oh, yes—you should never snub a saint!” said Wally. “So now I don’t want any breakfast. Where are you two going?”
“To the cottage. Come along—but really, I do think you should eat a decent breakfast, Wally.”
“It will be dinner-time before we know where we are—and I feel that Miss de Lisle’s dinner will be no joke,” said Wally. “So come along, old house mother, and don’t worry your ancient head about me.” Each boy seized one of Norah’s hands and they raced across the lawn. David Linton, looking at them from the dining-room window, laughed a little.
“Bless them—they’re all babies again!” he thought.
The cottage was echoing with strange sounds; it might be inferred that the stockings of the young Hunts had contained only bugles, trumpets and drums. Eva, sweeping the porch, greeted the newcomers with a friendly grin.
“Merry Christmas, Eva!”
“The sime to you,” said Eva. “Ain’t it a real cold morning? The frorst’s got me fingers a fair treat.”
“No one minds frost on Christmas Day—it’s the proper thing in this queer country!” said Wally. “Was Father Christmas good to you, Eva?”
“Wasn’t ’e! Not ’arf!” said Eva. “The children wouldn’t ’ear of anyfink but ’angin’ up a stockin’ for me—and I’m blowed if it wasn’t bang full this mornin’. And a post-card from me young man from the Front; it’s that saucy I wonder ’ow it ever passed the sentry! Well, I do say as ’ow this place ain’t brought us nuffink but luck!”