"I'd nearly forgotten that I had to see them," Mr. Linton said,
hastily. "Glad you reminded me, Norah. We'll have lunch early, and go
across."

Norah's morning was spent in helping Mrs. Brown to compound Christmas
cakes--large quantities of which were always made and stored well before
Christmas, with due reference to the appetites of Jim and his friends.
Then a somewhat heated and floury damsel donned a neat divided riding
skirt of dark-blue drill, with a white-linen coat, and the collar and
tie which Norah regarded as the only reasonable neck gear, and joined
her father in the office.

"Ready? That's right," said he, casting an approving glance at the trim
figure. "I've just finished writing, and the horses are in."

"So's lunch," Norah responded. "It's a perfectly beautiful day for a
ride, Daddy--hurry up!"

The day merited Norah's epithet, as they rode over the paddocks in the
afternoon. As yet the grass had not dried up, thanks to the late rains,
and everywhere a green sea rippled to the fences. Soon it would be dull
and yellow; but this day there was nothing to mar the perfection of the
carpet that gave softly under the horses' hoofs. The dogs raced wildly
before them, chasing swallows and ground-larks in the cheerfully
idiotic manner of dogs, with always a wary ear for Mr. Linton's
whistle: but as yet they were not on duty, and were allowed to run
riot.

An old log fence stretched before them. It was the only one on
Billabong, where all station details were strictly up-to-date. This one
had been left, partly because it was picturesque, and partly at the
request of Jim and Norah, because it gave such splendid opportunities
for jumping. There were not many places on that old fence that Bobs did
not know, and he began to reef and pull as they came nearer to it.

"I don't believe I'll be able to hold him in, Daddy!" said Norah, with
mock anxiety.

"Not afraid, I hope?" asked her father, laughing.

"Very--that you won't want to jump! I'd hate to disappoint him,
Daddy--may I?"

"Oh, go on!" said Mr. Linton. "If I said 'no' the savage animal would
probably bolt!" He held Monarch back as Norah gave the bay pony his
head, and they raced for the fence; watching with a smile in his eyes
the straight little form in the white coat, the firm seat in the
saddle, the steady hand on the rein. Bobs flew the big log like a bird,
and Norah twisted in her saddle to watch the black horse follow. Her
eyes were glowing as he