At one side there was actually a little verandah! a sight so
unusual in England that the Australians could scarcely believe their
eyes. Certainly it was only a very tiny verandah.

Within, all was bright and cheery and simple. The cottage had been
used as a "barracks" when the sons of a former owner had brought home
boy friends. Two rooms were fitted with bunks built against the wall,
as in a ship's cabin: there was a little dining-room, plainly
furnished, and a big sitting-room that took up the whole width of the
building, and had casement windows on three sides. There was a roomy
kitchen, from which a ladder-like staircase ascended to big attics,
one of which was fitted as a bedroom.

"It's no end of a jolly place," was Jim's verdict. "I don't know that
I wouldn't rather live here than in your mansion, Norah; but I suppose
it wouldn't do."

"I think it would be rather nice," Norah said. "But you can't,
because we want it for the Hunts. And it will be splendid for them,
won't it, Dad?"

"Yes, I think it will do very well," said Mr. Linton. "We'll get the
housekeeper to come down and make sure that it has enough pots and
pans and working outfit generally."

"And then we'll go up to London and kidnap Mrs. Hunt and the babies,"
said Norah, pirouetting gently. "Now, shall we go and see the
horses?"

They spent a blissful half-hour in the stables, and arranged to ride
in the afternoon--the old coachman was plainly delighted at the
absence of a chauffeur, and displayed his treasures with a pride to
which he had long been a stranger.

"The 'orses 'aven't 'ad enough to do since Sir John used to come," he
said. "The General didn't care for them--an infantry gent he must
have been--and it was always the motor for 'im. We exercised 'em, of
course, but it ain't the same to the 'orses, and don't they know it!"

"Of course they do." Norah caressed Killaloe's lean head.

"You'll hunt him, sir, won't you, this season?" asked Jones anxiously.
"The meets ain't what they was, of course, but there's a few goes out
still. The Master's a lady--Mrs. Ainslie; her husband's in France.
He's 'ad the 'ounds these five years."

"Oh, we'll hunt, won't we, Dad?" Norah's face glowed as she lifted it.

"Rather!" said Jim. "Of course you will. What about the other
horses, Jones? Can they jump?"

"To tell you the truth, sir," said Jones happily, "there's not one of
them that can't. Even the cobs ain't too bad; and the bla