"Oh, here you are," he said, smoothing the furrows out of his brow to smile at Norah. "I had an idea I sent you for the others some time ago, Jim."
Jim looked somewhat sheepish.
"Yes." He admitted, laughing. "Fact is, I—I got into a kerosene tin!" He glanced at his left leg expressively.
"I see," said his father, with a smile. "Well, I don't know that it matters—only a note has just come out from Anderson, and his chauffeur is waiting for an answer. It seems Cunjee is playing Mulgoa in a great cricket match on Thursday, and they're short of men. They want to know if they can recruit from Billabong."
"Good business!" said Jim, joyfully, while Wally hurrahed below his breath. "But will they let us play, Dad—Wal. and me?"
"Oh, they've fixed that up with the Mulgoa fellows," said his father. "It's all right. They're kind enough to ask me to play, but it's out of the question—even if I weren't approaching senile decay"—he smiled—"I wouldn't be able to go. Mr. Darrell has a buyer coming to look at his young stock on Friday, and he writes me that if I want any of them—he knows I did want some—I can have the first pick if I am over at Killybeg on Thursday. So that means I'll be away from Wednesday morning—and I think this match will be as efficacious as anything else in keeping you out of mischief during my absence!"
"I'm glad we'll have something!" Jim said, his grin belying his meek voice. "Well, we'll have to see who can play."
"You two boys, of course," said his father. "And Cecil—do you play?"
"Not for worlds, thank you," said Cecil, hastily. "It's not in my line."
"Oh," said his uncle. "Then you can be Norah's escort—if she wants to go, that is!"