Norah slipped her hand into her father’s arm.
“We really would need him, I believe, Daddy,” she whispered.
“You would, indeed, miss,” said the butler gratefully. “I could valet the young gentlemen, and if there’s any special attention needed, I could give it. I’d do my very utmost, miss. I’m old to go out looking for a new place at my time of life. And if you’ve once been in the Army, you like to stay as near it as you can.”
“Well, we’ll see,” Mr. Linton said guardedly. “I’ll probably write to General Somers about you.” At which the butler, forgetting his butlerhood, came smartly to attention—and then became covered with confusion and concealed himself as well as he could behind a coffee-pot.
“You might do much worse,” Jim remarked, on their way to the station. “He looks a smart man—and though this place is glorious, it’s going to take a bit of running. Keep him for a bit, at any rate, Dad.”
“I think it might be as well,” Mr. Linton answered. He turned at a bend in the drive, to look back at Homewood, standing calm and peaceful in its clustering trees. “Well, Norah, what do you think of your property?”
“I’m quite unable to believe it’s mine,” said Norah, laughing. “But I suppose that will come in time. However, there’s one thing quite certain, Dad—you and I will have to get very busy!”
CHAPTER III
OF LONDON AND OTHER MATTERS
Jim and Wally dropped lightly from the footboard of a swift motor-’bus, dodged through the traffic, and swung quickly down a quiet side-street. They stopped before a stone house, where, from a window above, Norah watched their eager faces as Jim fitted his latchkey and opened the door. She turned back into the room with a little sigh.
“There they are, Dad. And they’re passed fit—I know.”