“We have only two weeks more leave,” said Jim. “So the sooner we go the better.”
“And you can be ready, Norah?”
“Me? Oh, certainly,” said Norah, who, Wally declared, was always ready at any time for anything.
“Then, I’ll be off,” Sir John declared. “I left Con hard at work on the car, giving her a thorough overhaul—we could not believe that you would be so hard-hearted as to refuse him the trip! But I have a good many things to see to, and I’ll have a busy day.”
“Could I help you?” Jim asked. “I’m handy at odd jobs.”
“Would you care to? I’ll be awfully glad of your company,” said Sir John warmly. They went off together, the boy’s great shoulders towering above O’Neill’s dwarfed form.
Jim did not return until late that night. Norah, just about to blow out her candle, heard his light step on the stair and called to him softly.
“Not asleep yet, kiddie?” Jim said, sitting down on the bed. “You should be; you’ll be tired to-morrow.”
“I’m all right,” said Norah, disregarding this friendly caution. “Jim, I packed your bag; and there’s a list of things just inside it, in case I made any mistakes.”
“Well, you are a brick!” said Jim, who was accustomed to stern independence, but, like most people, greatly appreciated a little spoiling now and then. “I was looking forward rather dismally to a midnight packing; O’Neill wants to get off quite early in the morning.”