"Well, not to-night, anyhow. Promise me you won't have a row to-night—and if you tackle him when you get home there will be a row. Wait until Dad comes home." finished Norah, a little wearily.
Behind her, Wally leaned across to his chum. They pulled back a little.
"I say—don't worry her, old man," Wally said. "I guess she's had a bit of a shock—let's try and keep her mind off it. Do what she asks." And Jim nodded.
"All right, old woman," he said, coming alongside again. "I won't slay him to-night—don't bother your little head. We'll let Dad fix him."
Norah's grateful look rewarded him.
"Thanks, Jimmy," she said. "I—I'm feeling like having a little peace. And he'd never understand, no matter what you said."
"I suppose he wouldn't," Jim agreed. "But he's a worm! However—the storm's coming, and if we don't want wet jackets we'd better travel." They tore homewards through the hot night. Presently Wally started a chorus, and both boys were relieved when Norah joined in. They nodded at each other cheerfully behind her back. So, singing very lustily, if not in the most artistic fashion, they reached the Billagong stables just as the first heavy drops were falling.
Within, Cecil met them, a little nervously.
"I thought you were lost," he said.
"H'm," said Jim, passing him, and struggling with his promise. "Sorry you and Norah had any difference of opinion."