oes
sound jolly!"

"Miss de Lisle wishes to know, miss. The news 'as induced 'er to
invent a special cake."

"We'll have to send it to the poor Captain, I'm afraid," said Norah,
dimpling. "Dear me, I haven't told Mrs. Hunt! I must fly!" She
dropped her pen, and fled to the cottage--to find her father there
before her.

"I might have known you couldn't wait to tell," said Norah, laughing.
"And he pretends he isn't proud, Mrs. Hunt!"

"I've given up even pretending," said her father, laughing. "I found
myself shaking hands with Allenby in the most affectionate manner. You
see, Mrs. Hunt, this sort of thing hasn't happened in the family
before."

"Oh, but those boys couldn't help doing well," Mrs. Hunt said, looking
almost as pleased as the two beaming faces before her. "They're so
keen. I don't know if I should, but shall I read you what Douglas
says about them?" They gathered eagerly together over the curt words
of praise Major Hunt had written. "Quite ordinary boys, and not a bit
brainy," he finished. "But I wish I had a regiment full of them!"

Out in Australia, two months later, a huge old woman and a lean
Irishman talked over the letter Norah had at length managed to finish.

"And it's a Captin he is!" said Murty O'Toole, head stockman.

"A Captain!" Brownie echoed. "Don't it seem only yesterday he was
tearing about in his first little trousis, and the little mistress
watching him!"

"And riding his first pony. She put him over her head, and I med sure
he was kilt. 'Howld her, will ye, Murty,' says he, stamping his
little fut, and blood trickling down his face. 'Give me a leg up
again,' he says, 'till we see who's boss!' And I put him up, and off
he went down the paddock, digging his little heels into her. And he's
a Captin! Little Masther Jim!"

"I don't know why you're surprised," said Brownie loftily. "The only
wonder to _me_ is he wasn't one six months ago!"

CHAPTER XIII

THE END OF A PERFECT DAY

"Are you ready, Norah?"

"Coming, Phil--half a minute!"

Hardress, in riding kit, looked into the kitchen, where Norah was
carrying on a feverish consultation with Miss de Lisle.

"You'll be late," he said warningly. "Your father and Geoffrey have
gone on."

"Will I truly?" said Norah distractedly. "Yes, Miss de Lisle, I'll
write to the Stores about it to-night. Now, what about the fish?"

"Leave the fish to me," said Miss de Lisle, laughing. "If I can't
manage to