“Daddy——!” said Norah eagerly.
David Linton laughed.
“Yes, I knew you had one,” he said, “Out with it—I’ll listen.”
“They’re Tired People,” said Norah: and waited.
“Yes, they’re certainly tired enough,” said her father. “But the children, Norah? I don’t think we could possibly take in little children, considering the other weary inmates.”
“No, I thought that too,” Norah answered eagerly. “But don’t you remember the cottage, Daddy? Why shouldn’t they have it?”
“By Jove!” said Jim. “That jolly little thatched place?”
“Yes—it has several rooms. They could let their own house, and then they’d save heaps of money. It would get them right out of London; and Mrs. Hunt told me that London is the very worst place for him—the doctors said so.”
“That is certainly an idea,” Mr. Linton said. “It’s near enough to London for Hunt to run up for his treatment. We could see that they were comfortable.” He smiled at Norah, whose flushed face was dimly visible through the steam of the coffee. “I think it would be rather a good way to begin our job, Norah.”
“It would be so nice that it doesn’t feel like any sort of work!” said Norah.