were galloping across the plain towards home.

* * * * *

A young man sat on the cap of the stockyard fence at Billabong
homestead, swinging his legs listlessly and wishing for something to do.
He blessed the impulse that had brought him to the station before his
time, and wondered if things were likely to be always as dull.

"Unless my small pupil stirs things up, I don't fancy this life much,"
he said moodily, in which he showed considerable impatience of judgment,
being but a young man.

Across the long, grey plain a tiny cloud gathered, and the man watched
it lazily. Gradually it grew larger, until it resolved itself into
dust--and the dust into a horse and rider.

"Someone coming," he said, with faint interest. "By Jove, it's a girl!
She's racing, too. Wonder if anything's wrong?"

He slipped from the fence and went forward to open the gate, looking at
the advancing pair. A big bay pony panting and dripping with sweat, but
with "go" in him yet for a final sprint; and on his back a little girl,
flushed and excited, with tired, set lips. He expected her to stop at
the gate, but she flashed by him with a glance and a brief "Thank you,"
galloping up to the gate of the yard. Almost before the pony stopped she
was out of the saddle and running up the path to the kitchen. The man
saw Mrs. Brown come out, and heard her cry of surprise as she caught the
child to her.

"Something's up," said the stranger. He followed at a run.

In the kitchen Norah was clinging to Mrs. Brown, quivering with the
effort not to cry.

"Someone ill in the bush?" said the astonished Brownie, patting her
nurseling. "Yes, Billy's here, dearie--and all the horses are in.
Where's the note? I'll see to it. Poor pet! Don't take on, lovey, there.
See, here's your new governess, Mr. Stephenson!"

Norah straightened with a gasp of astonishment.

"You!" she said.

"Me!" said Dick Stephenson ungrammatically, holding out his hand.
"You're my pupil, aren't you? Is anything wrong?"

"There's a poor gentleman near to dyin' in the scrub," volunteered Mrs.
Brown, "an' Miss Norah's come all the way in for help. Fifteen mile, if
it's a inch! I don't know ow' you did it, my blessed pet!"

"You don't mean to say you did!" said the new "governess" amazed. Small
girls like this had not come his way. "By Jove, you're plucky! I say,
what's up?"

Norah was very pale.

"Are you really Mr. Stephenson?" she asked. "I... You'll be
surprised.... He's..." He