sister--a lady of much social eminence, who disapproved strongly of his
upbringing of Norah. "No, she doesn't mention such an extreme course,
but there's something almost as alarming. She wants to send Cecil here
for Christmas."

"Cecil! Oh, Daddy!" Norah's tone was eloquent.

"Says he's been ill," said her father, glancing at the letter in a vain
effort to decipher a message written along one edge. "He's better, but
needs change, and she seems to think Billabong will prove a
sanatorium." He looked at Norah with an expression of dismay that was
comical. "I shouldn't have thought we'd agree with that young man a
bit, Norah!"

"I've never seen him, of course," Norah said unhappily, "but Jim says
he's pretty awful. And you didn't like him yourself, did you, Daddy?"

"On the rare occasions that I've had the pleasure of meeting my nephew
I've always thought him an unlicked cub," Mr. Linton answered. "Of
course it's eighteen months since I saw him; possibly he may have
changed for the better, but at that time his bumptiousness certainly
appeared to be on the increase. He had just left school then--he must be
nearly twenty now."

"Oh--quite old," said Norah. "What is he like?"

"Pretty!" said Mr. Linton, wrinkling his nose. "As pretty as his
name--Cecil--great Scott! I wonder if he'd let me call him Bill for
short! Bit of a whipper-snapper, he seemed; but I didn't take very much
notice of him--saw he was plainly bored by his uncle from the Bush, so I