ht them! Merry Christmas, everybody."
He flung himself at Norah, with a mighty hug.

"And where's my Michael--and that Alison?" Norah asked. "Oh, Michael,
darling, aren't you the lucky one!" as he appeared crowned with a
paper cap and drawing a wooden engine. "Where's Alison?"

"It's no good ever _speaking_ to Alison," Geoffrey said, with scorn.
"She got a silly doll in her stocking, and all she'll do is to sit on
the floor and take off its clothes. Girls are stupid--all 'cept you,
Norah!"

"Keep up that belief, my son, and you'll be spared a heap of trouble,"
said Major Hunt, coming out. "Unfortunately, you're bound to change
your mind. How are you all? We've had an awful morning!"

"It began at half-past four," Mrs. Hunt added. "At that hour Michael
discovered a trumpet; and no one has been asleep since."

"They talk of noise at the Front!" said her husband. "Possibly I've
got used to artillery preparation; anyhow, it strikes me as a small
thing compared to my trio when they get going with assorted musical
instruments. How is your small family, Miss Norah?"

"Not quite so noisy as yours--but still, you would notice they were
there!" Norah answered, laughing. "They were all at breakfast when I
left, and it seemed likely that breakfast would run on to dinner,
unless they remembered that church is at eleven. I must run home; we
just came to wish you all a merry Christmas. Dinner at half-past one,
remember!"

"We won't forget," Mrs. Hunt said.

Every one was dining at Homewood, and dinner, for the sake of the
children, was in the middle of the day. The house was full of guests;
they trooped back from church across the park, where the ground rang
hard as iron underfoot, for it was a frosty Christmas. Homewood
glowed with colour and life--with big fires blazing everywhere, and
holly and ivy scarlet and green against the dark oaken panelling of
the walls. And if the Australians sent thoughts overseas to a red
homestead--Billabong, nestling in its green of orchard and garden,
with scorched yellow paddocks stretching away for miles around
it--they were not homesick thoughts to-day. For home was in their
hearts, and they were together once more.

The dinner was a simple one--Miss de Lisle had reserved her finest
inspirations for the evening meal, regarding Christmas dinner as a
mere affair of turkey and blazing plum-pudding, which, except in the
matter of sauces, might be managed by any one. "It nee