“Jolly!” said Wally, emphatically, casting glances of approval round the bright cabin, already homelike with photographs, cushions, flowers and other dainty belongings. “Why, it might be a scrap of old Billabong, Nor. Here’s Jimmy with the final touch.”
Jim had a grey, furry bundle in his arms.
“It’s only a little ’possum rug,” he said. “Your travelling rug may often get damp with spray, and it’s rather jolly to have a spare one for your bunk. Dad and I got it for you.” He spread it out on the berth. “Will it do, kiddie?”
“Do!” said Norah, and put her cheek down into the grey softness. “It’s just a beauty, Jim—you and Dad do think of the loveliest things! They’re splendid skins; and I’m so glad you had the tails left on. Doesn’t it make my bed look nice?”
“You mustn’t say a bed, on board ship,” Jim said, severely. “Beds are shore luxuries, and this is merely a bunk.”
“It’s good enough for me,” said his sister happily. “It looks a jolly place to sleep. I’m ready, Jim; can’t we go on deck? I want to see the Heads.”
“We came to bring you,” Jim said, “though there’s half an hour yet. Has the stewardess been saddening your young mind about your port-hole?”
“Yes—isn’t it awful! How on earth is one to sleep with one’s window shut?”
“Well, it isn’t quite so bad as it seems—though it’s bad enough,” Jim answered. “As long as there’s a light in your cabin the shutter must be up; but as soon as you switch it off, it can be opened, only of course you’re on your honour not to light up again. So I can come in after you’re in bed and open it for you.”
“Oh, thank goodness!” Norah said, fervently. “Will it bother you much, Jim?”