Afterwards--when the blow was a little less heavy as Norah grew
accustomed to it--they talked it over thoroughly.

Norah's education, in the strict sense of the term, had only been
carried on for about two years. In reality it had gone on all her life,
spent mostly at her father's side; but that was the kind of education
that does not live between the covers of books. Together, David Linton
and his daughter had worked, and played and talked--much more of the
former condition than of either of the latter. All that the bush could
teach her Norah knew, and in most of the work of the station--Billabong
was a noted cattle-run--she was as handy as any of the men. Her father's
constant mate, every day shared with him was a delight to her. They
rode together, fished, camped and explored together; it was the rarest
occurrence for Mr. Linton's movements not to include Norah as a matter
of course.

Yet there was something in the quiet man that had effectually prevented
any development of roughness in Norah. Boyish and offhand to a certain
extent, the solid foundation of womanliness in her nature was never far
below the surface. She was perfectly aware that while Daddy wanted a
mate he also wanted a daughter; and there was never any real danger of
her losing that gentler attribute--there was too much in her of the
little dead mother for that. Brownie, the ever watchful, had seen to it
that she did not lack housewifely accomplishments, and Mr. Linton was
wont to say proudly that Norah's scones were as light as her hand on
the horse's mouth. There was no doubt that the irregular side of her
education was highly practical.

Two years before Fate had taken a new interest in Norah's development,
bringing as inmates of the homestead an old friend of her father's,