face resplendent with smiles.

"I was just beginning to wonder if any of you had fallen into the
creek," she said. "You must be hungry, poor dears. Supper's ready."

"Where's Dad?" asked Norah.

"Your Pa's gone to Sydney."

"Sydney!"

"Yes, my dears. A tallygrum came for him--something about some valuable
cattle to be sold, as he wants."

"Oh," said Jim, "those shorthorns he was talking about?"

"Very like, Master Jim. Very sorry, your Pa were, he said, to go so
suddint, and not to see you again, and the other young gentlemen
likewise, seein' you go away on Monday. He left his love to Miss Norah,
and a letter for you; and Miss Norah, you was to try not to be dull, and
he would be back by Thursday, so he 'oped."

"Oh," said Norah, blankly. "It's hardly a homecoming without Dad."

Supper was over at last, and it had been a monumental meal. To behold
the onslaughts made by the four upon Mrs. Brown's extensive preparations
one might have supposed that they had previously been starving for time
uncounted.

"Heigho!" said Jim. "Our last day to-morrow."

Groans followed from Harry and Wally.

"What do you want to remind a fellow for?"

"Couldn't help it--slipped out. What a jolly sell not to see old Dad
again!" Jim wrinkled his brown handsome face into a frown.

"You needn't talk!" said Norah gloomily. "Fancy me on Monday--not a soul
to speak to."

"Poor old Norah--yes, it's rough on you," said Jim. "Wish you were
coming too. Why can't you get Dad to let you go to school in Melbourne?"

"Thanks," said Norah hastily, "I'd rather not. I think I can bear this
better. School! What on earth would I do with myself, shut up all day?"

"Oh, all right; I thought you might like it. You get used to it, you
know."

"I couldn't get used to doing without Dad," returned Norah.

"Or Dad to doing without you, I reckon," said Jim. "Oh, I suppose it's
better as it is--only you'll have to get taught some day, old chap, I
suppose."

"Oh, never mind that now," Norah said impatiently. "I suppose I'll have
a governess some day, and she won't let me ride astride, or go after the
cattle, or climb trees, or do anything worth doing, and everything will
be perfectly hateful. It's simply beastly to be getting old!"

"Cheer up, old party," Jim laughed. "She might be quite a decent sort
for all you know. As for riding astride, Dad'll never let you ride any
other way, so you can keep your mind easy about that. Well, never mind
gover