"Yes, I believe so. Several people I know send their girls there. And
it's a great place for sports, Norah. You'll like that. They're keen on
hockey and cricket and all sorts of things girls never dreamed about
when I was young. Possibly I may live to see you a slow bowler yet, and
playing in a match! Honestly, Norah, I believe you'll be very happy at
school."

"And what'll you do, Daddy?"

"I don't know," he said, heavily. "I told you I was under sentence."

They sat awhile in silence. It was evening, and they were on the
verandah; Mr. Linton in a big basket chair, and Norah curled up at his
feet in the way she loved. She could not see his face--just then she did
not want to. She said nothing. The moon climbed up slowly, and the
frogs were merry in the lagoon. Far off the cry of a bittern boomed
across the flats.

"Well, at least we've got nine weeks," Norah said at length. "Nine
weeks to be mates--and Jim'll be home next week, and he'll be mates,
too. Don't let's get blue about it, Daddy. It'll be so horrid when the
time comes, that it's no good letting it spoil these nine weeks. Can't
we try to forget it?"

"We can try," said David Linton.

"Course, we won't do it," Norah said. "But don't let's talk about it.
I'm going to put it out of my head as much as ever I can, and have this
time for just Billabong and us. Will you, Daddy?"