ly happily, "carrying on the good work
by stalking through London with three kids sticking out of his
pockets--followed by Norah, armed with feeding-bottles!"

"Wounded officer and wife hard in pursuit armed with shot guns!"
supplemented Jim. "I like your pacifist ideas of running a home for
Tired People, I must say!"

"Why, they would forget that they had ever been tired!" said Norah.
"I think it's rather a brilliant notion--there certainly wouldn't be
another convalescent home in England run on the same lines. But
you're not good on matters of detail--people don't have
feeding-bottles for babies of that age."

"I'm not well up in babies," said Wally. "Nice people, but I like
somebody else to manage 'em. I thought bottles were pretty safe until
they were about seven!"

"Well, we'll talk it over with the Hunts to-morrow--the cottage, not
the bottles," Mr. Linton said. "Meanwhile, it's bed-time, so
good-night, everybody." He dispersed the assembly by the simple
process of switching off the electric light--smiling to himself as Jim
and Norah two-stepped, singing, down the tiny corridor in the
darkness.

But the mid-day post brought a worried little note from Mrs. Hunt,
putting off the party. Her husband had had a bad report on his hand
that morning, and was going into hospital for an immediate operation.
She hoped to fix a day later on--the note was a little incoherent.
Norah had a sudden vision of the three small Hunts "who made rather
more noise than a regiment" rampaging round the harassed mother as she
tried to write.

"Perhaps it's as well--we'll study the cottage, and make sure that
it's all right for them," said her father. "Then we'll kidnap them.
Meanwhile we'll go and send them a big hamper of fruit, and put some
sweets in for the babies." A plan which was so completely after
Norah's heart that she quite forgot her disappointment.

CHAPTER IV

SETTLING IN

They bade good-bye to the flat early next morning and went down to
Homewood through a dense fog that rolled up almost to the carriage
windows like masses of white wool. At the station the closed carriage
waited for them, with the brown cobs pawing the ground impatiently.
General Somers' chauffeur had gone with his master, and so far they
had not succeeded in finding a substitute, but the groom and coachman,
who were also gardeners in their spare time, considered themselves
part and parcel of the place, and had no idea of changing