was carried unanimously.

Out on the grass they lay and chattered, while the dusk came down, and
slowly a pale moon climbed up into the sky. Norah alone was silent.
After a while Harry and Wally declared they must go and pack, and Jim
and his sister were left alone.

Wally and Harry scurried down the hail. The sound of their merry voices
died away, and there was silence on the lawn.

Jim rolled nearer to Norah.

"Blue, old girl?"

"'M," said a muffled voice.

Jim felt for her hand in the darkness--and found it. The small, brown
fingers closed tightly round his rough paw.

"I know," he said comprehendingly. "I'm awfully sorry, old woman. I do
wish we hadn't to go."

There was no answer. Jim knew why--and also knowing perfectly well that
tears would mean the deepest shame, he talked on without requiring any
response.

"Beastly hard luck," he said. "We don't want to go a bit--fancy school
after this! Ugh! But there are three of us, so it isn't so bad. It
wouldn't matter if Dad was at home, for you. But I must say it's lowdown
to be leaving you all by your lonely little self."

Norah struggled hard with that abominable lump in her throat, despising
herself heartily.

"Brownie'll be awfully good to you," went on Jim. "You'll have to buck
up, you know, old girl, and not let yourself get dull. You practise like
one o'clock; or make jam, or something; or get Brownie to let you do
some cooking. Anything to keep you 'from broodin' on bein' a dorg,' as
old David Harum says. There's all the pets to look after, you
know--you've got to keep young black Billy up to the mark, or he'll
never feed 'em properly, and if you let him alone he changes the water
in the dishes when the last lot's dry. And, by George, Norah"--Jim had a
bright idea--"Dad told me last night he meant to shift those new
bullocks into the Long Plain. Ten to one he forgot all about it, going
away so suddenly. You'll have to see to it."

"I'd like that," said Norah, feeling doubtfully for her voice.

"Rather--best thing you can do," Jim said eagerly. "Take Billy with you,
of course, and a dog. They're not wild, and I don't think you'll have
any trouble--only be very careful to get 'em all--examine all the scrub
in the paddock. Billy knows how many there ought to be. I did know, but,
of course, I've forgotten. Of course Dad may have left directions with
one of the men about it already."

"Well, I could go too, couldn't I?" queried Norah.

"Rather. T