uests came under the spell of the place; so that
Norah used to receive anxious inquiries from various corners of the
earth afterwards--from Egypt or Salonica would come demands as to the
success of a catch-crop which the writer had helped to sow, or of a
brood of Buff Orpingtons which he had watched hatching out in the
incubator: even from German East Africa came a letter asking after a
special litter of pigs! Perhaps it was that every one knew that the
Lintons were shouldering a burden bravely, and tried to help.

They kept Jim very close to them. A stranger, hearing the name so
often on their lips, might have thought that he was still with them.
Together, they talked of him always; not sadly, but remembering the
long, happy years that now meant a memory too dear ever to let go.
Jim had once asked Norah for a promise. "If I go West," he said,
"don't wear any horrible black frocks." So she went about in her
ordinary dresses, especially the blue frocks he had loved--with just a
narrow black band on her arm. There were fresh flowers under his
picture every day, but she did not put them sadly. She would smile at
the frank happy face as she arranged leaves and blossoms with a loving
hand.

Later on, David Linton fitted up a carpenter's bench and a workshop;
the days were too full for much thinking, but he found the evenings
long. He enlisted Hardress in his old work of splint-making, and then
found that half his guests used to stray out to the lit workshop after
dinner and beg for jobs, so that before long the nearest Hospital
Supply Depot could count on a steady output of work from Homewood.
Mrs. Hunt and Norah used to come as polishers; Miss de Lisle suddenly
discovered that her soul for cooking included a corner for carpentry,
and became extraordinarily skilful in the use of chisel and plane.
When the autumn days brought a chill into the air, Mr. Linton put a
stove into the workshop; and it became a kind of club, where the whole
household might often be found; they extended their activities to the
manufacture of crutches, bed-rests, bed-tables, and half a dozen other
aids to comfort for broken men. No work had helped David Linton so
much.

In the early summer Wally came back on leave: a changed Wally, with
grim lines where there had once been only merry ones in his lean,
brown face. He did not want to come to Homewood; only when begged to
come did he master the pitiful shrinking he felt from meeting them.