CHAPTER IV
SETTLING IN
They bade good-bye to the flat early next morning and went down to Homewood through a dense fog that rolled up almost to the carriage windows like masses of white wool. At the station the closed carriage waited for them, with the brown cobs pawing the ground impatiently. General Somers’ chauffeur had gone with his master, and so far they had not succeeded in finding a substitute, but the groom and coachman, who were also gardeners in their spare time, considered themselves part and parcel of the place, and had no idea of changing their home.
“The cart for the luggage will be here presently, sir,” Jones, the old coachman, told Mr. Linton. So they left a bewildering assortment of suit-cases and trunks piled up on the platform in the care of an ancient porter, and packed themselves into the carriage. Norah was wont to say that the only vehicle capable of accommodating her three long men-folk comfortably was an omnibus. The fog was lifting as they rolled smoothly up the long avenue; and just as they came within sight of the house a gleam of pale sunlight found its way through the misty clouds and lingered on the ivy-clad gables. The front door was flung wide to welcome them: on the steps hovered the ex-sergeant, wearing a discreet smile. Behind him fluttered a print dress and a white apron, presumably worn by his niece.
“I say, Norah, don’t you feel like the Queen of Sheba entering her ancestral halls?” whispered Wally wickedly, as they mounted the steps.
“If she felt simply horrible, then I do!” returned Norah. “I suppose I’ll get used to it in time, but at present I want a hollow log to crawl into!”
Allenby greeted them respectfully.
“We did not know what rooms you would like, sir,” he said. “They are all practically ready, of course. My niece, miss, thought you might prefer the blue bedroom. Her name is Sarah, miss.”
“We don’t want the best rooms—the sunniest, I mean,” Norah said. “They must be for the Tired People, mustn’t they, Dad?”
“Well, there are no Tired People, except ourselves, at present,” said her father, laughing. “So if you have a fancy for any room, you had better take it, don’t you think?”
“Well, we’ll tour round, and see,” said Norah diplomatically, with mental visions of the sudden “turning-out” of rooms should weary guests arrive. “It might be better to settle down from the first as we mean to be.”