lling the world.' That's all, I think," Mr.
Linton ended.

"What luck!" Jim ejaculated. "We couldn't have a better chauffeur."

"I wonder we never thought of Con," said his father. "A nice boy; I'd
like to have him."

"So would I," added Norah. "When will you get them, Dad?"

"I'll write at once and send a cheque for their fares," said her
father. "I'll tell them to send me a telegram when they start." He
rose to leave the room. "What are you going to do this morning,
children?"

"We're all turning out the cottage," Norah answered promptly. "I
haven't told Sarah; she disapproves of me so painfully if I do any
work, and hurts my feelings by always doing it over again, if
possible. At the same time, she looks so unhappy about working at
all, and sighs so often, that I don't feel equal to telling her that
the cottage has to be done. So Jim and Wally have nobly volunteered
to help me."

"Don't knock yourself up," said her father. "Will you want me?"

"No--unless you like to come as a guest and sit still and do nothing.
My two housemaids and I can easily finish off that little job.
There's not really a great deal to do," Norah added; "the place is
very clean. Only one likes to have everything extra nice when Tired
People come."

"Well, I'm not coming to sit still and do nothing," said her father
firmly, "so I'll stay at home and write letters." He watched them
from the terrace a little later, racing across the lawn, and smiled a
little. It was so unlikely that this long-legged family of his would
ever really grow up.

The house was very quiet that morning. Mrs. Atkins and Miss de Lisle
having quarrelled over the question of dinner, had retreated, the one
to the housekeeper's room, the other to the kitchen. Sarah went about
her duties sourly. Allenby was Sarah's uncle, and, as such, felt some
duty to her, which he considered he had discharged in getting her a
good place; beyond that, Sarah frankly bored him, and he saw no reason
to let her regard him as anything else than a butler. "Bad for
discipline, too!" he reflected. Therefore Allenby was lonely. He
read the _Daily Mail_ in the seclusion of his pantry, and then,
strolling through the hall, with a watchful eye alert lest a speck of
dust should have escaped Sarah, he saw his master cross the garden and
strike across the park in the direction of Hawkins' farm. Every one
else was out, Allenby knew not where. An impulse for fresh air fell