“Rather not!” said Garrett. “I like them—got some young brothers of my own in Jamaica.”
“Well, that’s all right. Now come in, and Allenby will show you your room. The car will bring your things up when it goes to meet Dad.”
Norah had often rehearsed in her own mind what she would do when the first Tired Person came. The rooms were all ready—“in assorted sizes,” Allenby said. Norah had awful visions of eight or ten guests arriving together, and in her own mind characterized the business of allotting them to their rooms as a nasty bit of drafting. But the first guest had tactfully come alone, and there was no doubt that he deserved the blue room—a delightful little corner room looking south and west, with dainty blue hangings and wall-paper, and a big couch that beckoned temptingly to a tired man. Captain Garrett had had fourteen months in France without a break. He had spent the previous night in the leave-train, only pausing in London for a hasty “clean-up.” The lavender-scented blue room was like a glimpse of Heaven to him. He did not want to leave it—only that downstairs Jim Linton’s sister awaited him, and it appeared that the said sister was a very jolly girl, with a smile like her brother’s cheerful grin, and a mop of brown curls framing a decidedly attractive face. Bob Garrett decided that there were better things than even the blue room, and, having thankfully accepted Allenby’s offer of a hot tub, presently emerged from the house, much improved in appearance.
This time Norah was not alone. A small boy was with her, who greeted the newcomer with coolness, and then suddenly fell upon him excitedly, recognizing the badge on his collar.
“You’re in Daddy’s regiment!” he exclaimed.
“Am I?” Garrett smiled at him. “Who is Daddy?”
“He’s Major Hunt,” said Geoff; and had the satisfaction of seeing the new officer become as eager as he could have wished.
“By Jove! Truly, Miss Linton?—does Major Hunt live here? I’d give something to see him.”
“He lives just round the corner of that bush,” said Norah, laughing. She indicated a big rhododendron. “Is he at home, Geoff?”
“No—he’s gone to London,” Geoff answered. “But he’ll be back for tea.”