“This is the most peaceful thing I’ve done since we became a burnt-offering,” he said, as they drifted away from the shore. He lit his pipe and leaned back contentedly. “Well—business is done!”
“Thank goodness!” from Norah.
“I quite agree with you,” said her father. “To be burnt out is bad enough, but it’s an added penance to be forced to put in time as I’ve been doing. I’m sick of the sight of insurance people, and policemen, and architects, and contractors!”
“Have you made all arrangements, Dad?” Jim asked.
“So far as I can. But the men I want to employ can’t begin rebuilding for three weeks at least, possibly a month; and then the job will be a long one.”
“Then I won’t see it before I go back to school!” came from Norah, disgustedly. “Oh, I’m so sorry!”
“No; and I’m sorry, too,” said her father. “But it can’t be helped. The fire has done unpleasant things to your holidays, my girl.”
“Just you wait until I begin growling!” Norah said, laughing. “I’m having lovely holidays, truly, only I’m disappointed that I can’t see the house.”
“Well, I’ve a plan,” said David Linton, slowly.
Norah sat up so briskly that the boat rocked violently.