--that we
will see them--ah--back, with decorations and promotion. We will miss
them--ah--very much. Speaking--ah--personally, I came here fit for
nothing, and have--ah--laughed so much that I--ah--could almost
believe myself a subaltern!"

The Tired People applauded energetically, and Mrs. West said
"Quite--quite!" But there was something like tears in her eyes as she
said it.

The Hunts arrived after dinner, and they all woke the house with
ringing choruses--echoed by Allenby in his pantry, as he polished the
silver; and Garrett sang a song which was not encored because
something in his silver tenor made a lump come into Norah's throat;
and there was no room for that, to-night, of all nights. Jack Blake
sang them a stockrider's song, with a chorus in which all the
Australians joined; and Dick Harrison recited "The Geebung Polo Club,"
without any elocutionary tricks, and brought down the house. Jim had
slipped out to speak to Allenby: and presently, going out, they found
the hall cleared, and the floor waxed for dancing. They danced to
gramophone music, manipulated by Mr. Linton: and Norah and Mrs. Hunt
had to divide each dance into three, except those with Jim and Wally,
which they refused to partition, regardless of disconsolate protests
from the other warriors. It was eleven o'clock when Allenby announced
stolidly, "Supper is served, sir!"

"Supper?" said Mr. Linton. "How's this, Norah?"

"_I_ don't know," said his daughter. "Ask Miss de Lisle!"

They filed in, to find a table laden and glittering; in the centre a
huge cake, bearing the greeting, "Good Luck!" with a silken Union Jack
waving proudly. Norah whispered to her father, and then ran away.
She returned, presently, dragging the half-unwilling cook-lady.

"It's against _all_ my rules!" protested the captive.

"Rules be hanged!" said Jim cheerfully. "Just you sit there, Miss de
Lisle." And the cook-lady found herself beside Colonel West, who paid
her great attention, regarding her, against the evidence of his eyes,
as a Tired Person whom he had not previously chanced to meet.

"My poor, neglected babies!" said Mrs. Hunt tragically, as twelve
strokes chimed from the grandfather clock in the hall. Wally and
Norah, crowned with blue and scarlet paper caps, the treasure of
crackers, were performing a weird dance which they called, with no
very good reason, a tango. It might have been anything, but it
satisfied the performers. The music sto