"Beats me how you're so nice to him," Wally averred. "My word, it would do that lad good to have a year or two at our school! I guess it would take some of the nonsense out of him. Was he ever young?"
"I shouldn't think so," Norah said, laughing—"he has such a lofty contempt for anything at all juvenile now. Well, at least he's looking better than when he came, so Billabong is doing him good in one way at any rate, and that is a comfort. But I'm sure he's counting the days until he goes away."
"Well, so am I," said Wally, cheerfully. "So at least there are two of us, and I should think there were several more. It's pleasant to find even one subject on which one can be a twin-soul with Cecil. Norah"—solemnly—"I have counted eleven different pairs of socks on that Johnny since I came, and each was more brilliant than the last!"
"I don't doubt it," Norah laughed. "They're the admiration of the laundry here, and even the men stopped and looked at them as they were hanging on the line last week. Dave Boone was much interested in that green pair with the gold stripes, and asked Sarah what football club they belonged to!"
"Great Scott!" said Wally explosively. "Can you imagine Cecil playing football?"
"I can't—I wish I could," Norah answered. "Well, never mind Cecil—he's a tiring subject. Tell me what you think of my chicks."
Norah's special fowl yard was a grassy run divided into two parts, with small houses and wire-netted enclosures in each. At present one was devoted to a couple of mothers with clutches of ten and twelve chickens—all white Orpingtons. The mothers were stately, comfortable dames, and the chicks, round little creamy balls, very tame and fascinating. They came quite close to Norah as she stooped to feed them, and one chick, bolder than his brethren, even stood on the back of her hand. Wally admired without stint, and proceeded to discharge the practical duty of rinsing out the water tins and filling them afresh.
In the other yard a number of older chickens grew and prospered; these also were all white, of the Leghorn breed, and Norah was immensely proud of them. She sat down on the end of a box and pointed out their varied beauties.
"I should have more—lots more," she said, dolefully. "But I've had horrible trouble with pigs. Why anybody keeps pigs at all I can't imagine!"
"They're handy when preserved," Wally remarked. "But what did they do to you?"