didn't worry him. Well, now he's ours for a time your aunt doesn't
limit--more that that, if I can make a guess at these hieroglyphics,
I've got to send a telegram to say we'll have him on Saturday."

"And this is Wednesday--oh, Dad!" expostulated Norah.

"Can't be helped," her father said. "We've got to go through with it;
if the boy has been ill he must certainly have all the change we can
give him. But I'm doubtful. Eva says he's had a 'nervous breakdown,'
and I rather think it's a complaint I don't believe in for boys of
twenty."

The dinner gong sounded. Amid its echoes Norah might have been heard
murmuring something about "nervous grandmother."

"H'm," said her father, laughing; "I don't think he'll find much
sympathy with his more fragile symptoms in Billabong--we must try to
brace him up, Norah. But whatever will Jim say, I wonder!"

"He'll be too disgusted for words," Norah answered. "Poor old Jimmy! I
wonder how they'll get on. D'you suppose Cecil ever played football?"

"From Cecil's appearance I should say he devoted his time to
wool-work," said Mr. Linton. "However, it may not turn out as badly as
we think, and it's no use meeting trouble halfway, is it? Also, we've
to remember that he'll be our guest."

"But that's the trouble," said Norah, laughing. "It wouldn't be half so
bad if you could laugh at him. I'll have to be so hugely polite!"