pped suddenly, and Mr. Linton
wound up the gramophone for the last time, slipping on a new record.
The notes of "Auld Lang Syne," stole out.

They gathered round, holding hands while they sang it; singing with
all their lungs and all their hearts: Norah between Jim and Wally,
feeling her fingers crushed in each boyish grip.

_"Then here's a hand, my trusty friend,
And gie's a hand o' thine."_

Over the music her heart listened to the booming of the guns across
the Channel. But she set her lips and sang on.

*****

It was morning, and they were on the station. The train came slowly
round the corner.

"I'll look after him, Nor." Wally's voice shook. "Don't worry too
much, old girl."

"And yourself, too," she said.

"Oh, I'll keep an eye on _him_," said Jim. "And Dad's your job."

"And we'll plan all sorts of things for your next leave," said David
Linton. "God bless you, boys."

They gripped hands. Then Jim put his arms round Norah's shoulder.

"You'll keep smiling, kiddie? Whatever comes?"

"Yes, I promise, Jimmy."

The guard was shouting.

"All aboard."

"Cheero, Norah!" Wally cried from the window. "We'll be back in no
time!"

"Cheero!" She made the word come somehow. The train roared off round
the curve.

CHAPTER XII

OF LABOUR AND PROMOTION

The months went by quickly enough, as David Linton and his daughter
settled down to their work at the Home for Tired People. As the place
became more widely known they had rarely an empty room. The boys'
regiment sent them many a wearied officer, too fagged in mind and body
to enjoy his leave: the hospitals kept up a constant supply of
convalescent and maimed patients; and there was a steady stream of
Australians of all ranks, who came, homesick for their own land, and
found a little corner of it planted in the heart of Surrey.
Gradually, as the Lintons realized the full extent of the homesickness
of the lads from overseas, Homewood became more and more Australian in
details. Pictures from every State appeared on the walls: aboriginal
weapons and curiosities, woven grass mats from the natives of
Queensland, Australian books and magazines and papers--all were
scattered about the house. They filled vases with blue-gum leaves and
golden wattle-blossom from the South of France: Norah even discovered
a flowering boronia in a Kew nurseryman's greenhouse and carried it
off in triumph, to scent the house with the unforgettable del