David Linton looked up from the elbow-splint he was making.
“Well, it had to come, mate,” he said.
“Yes, I know. But I hoped it wouldn’t!” said poor Norah inconsistently.
“You wouldn’t like them not to go,” said her father. And then cheery footsteps clattered up the stairs, and the boys burst in.
“Passed!” shouted Jim. “Fit as fiddles!”
“When?” Norah asked.
“This day week. So we’ll have nice time to settle you into Homewood and try those horses, won’t we?”
“Yes, rather!” said Norah. “Were they quite satisfied with your arm, Wally?”
“Yes, they say it’s a lovely arm,” said that gentleman modestly. “I always knew it, but it’s nice to have other people agreeing with me! And they say our lungs are beautiful too; not a trace of gas left. And—oh, you tell them, Jim!”
“And we’re not to go out yet,” said Jim, grinning widely. “Special Lewis-gun course at Aldershot first, and after that a bombing course. So there you are.” He broke off, his utterance hindered by the fact that Norah had suddenly hugged him very hard, while David Linton, jumping up, caught Wally’s hand.