"I'd do it myself sooner'n let them go without, Jim, dear," said the
small voice, with a suspicion of a choke.

"Don't you do it," said Jim; "slang Billy. What's he here for, I'd like
to know! I only want you to go round 'em every day, and see that they're
all right."

So daily Norah used to make her pilgrimage round Jim's pets. There were
the guinea pigs--a rapidly increasing band, in an enclosure specially
built for them by Jim--a light frame, netted carefully everywhere, and
so constructed that it could be moved from place to place, giving them a
fresh grass run continually. Then there were two young wallabies and a
little brush kangaroo, which lived in a little paddock all their own,
and were as tame as kittens. Norah loved this trio especially, and
always had a game with them on her daily visit. There was a shy
gentleman which Norah called a turloise, because she never could
remember if he were a turtle or a tortoise. He lived in a small
enclosure, with a tiny water hole, and his disposition was extremely
retiring. In private Norah did not feel drawn to this member of her
charge, but she paid him double attention, from an inward feeling of
guilt, and because Jim set a high value upon him.

"He's such a wise old chap," Jim would say; "nobody knows what he's
thinking of!"

In her heart of hearts Norah did not believe that mattered very much.

But when the stables had been visited and Bobs and Sirdar (Jim's
neglected pony) interviewed; when Tait and Puck had had their breakfast