An unfamiliar step came along the passage, and Norah sat up abruptly from the labours of composition, and then with promptness concealed her letter under a cookery book.
"Why Cecil! How did you find your way here?"
"Oh—looked about me. I had finished my writing, and there was nothing to do."
"I'm so sorry," Norah said contritely. "You see, Brownie's sick, and I'm on duty here."
"You!" said Cecil, with a laugh. "And what can YOU do in a kitchen?"
Norah blushed at the laugh more than at the words.
"Oh, you'll get some sort of a dinner," she said. "Don't be too critical, that's all."
"What, you really can cook? Or do you play at it?"
"Well, there are mighty few girls in the Bush who can't cook a bit," Norah said. "Of course we're lucky, having Brownie—but you really never can tell as a rule when you may have to turn to in the kitchen. Dad says it's one of the beauties of Australia!"
"Can't say I like the idea of a lady in the kitchen," quoth Cecil loftily.