“That would be ripping,” Jim said, doubtfully. “I don’t know, though; I’m an Australian, and I rather think Australians ought to stick together. And I would know such a lot of the fellows in our own contingent.”
“That counts, of course,” said his father. “But there’s another point; there are rumours that our men may not be sent direct to the Front. You might get hung up in Egypt, or the Persian Gulf, or Malta; I’ve heard suggestions that the Australians should even be used for garrison duty in India.”
“By Jove!” said Jim. “I wouldn’t like that.”
“No; and it would mean that you might never get to England at all, to join Norah and me after the show. If you’re going, I don’t want you to be shelved in some out-of-the-way corner of the earth; I’d like you to have your chance.”
“Oh, Jimmy, come with us!” said Norah. “Just think how jolly it would be—not like the voyage in a horrid old troopship, where you mightn’t be allowed to see a single port. And perhaps we’d be together quite a lot in England, before you were sent to the Front.”
Wally jumped up with such emphasis that his chair fell over backwards. He did not notice it.
“Let’s all go!” he cried.
Three pairs of eyes turned upon him for information.
“If it’s really true that boys younger than I am are being taken in England, I’d have a chance, wouldn’t I, Mr. Linton?”
“I suppose you would—yes, of course, my boy. You’re only a year younger than Jim, aren’t you?”